War in the Shadow of Wings
by TJ4ev
Summary: Sequel to Being Human in the Shadow of Wings Hal and Lena, Tom and Alex enjoy nearly normal life as enemies quietly gather... Praise Toby Whithouse for creating Being Human and its characters! My OC is my own creation. There will be violence, blood, sex, dub/con, attempts at humor.
1. At Home

Sweet normality reigned at Honolulu Heights.

Tom and Alex went to work at the Barry Grand at least five days a week and sometimes stopped in, just to see how things were going, on their days off. Tom managed his new hires and charmed the hotel's new guests with his honest courtesy and joy at their presence. He set a high standard for customer service that his employees strove to match.

Alex could become fully tangible and remain physically present for several hours at a time when she chose to do so. She quietly managed the housekeeping staff, some of whom had stayed with the hotel through the Hatch debacle and subsequent renovation. They were comfortable with her moments of varying tangibility and easily accepted her supervision because she was one of them. They saw her as a friend and an asset to the hotel, and they knew that she would defend them against any attempted impropriety by a guest.

Alex had a way of knowing when trouble was about to occur and appearing just in time to stop it. Lena had worked with her through the months of their growing friendship and had taught her to sense the environment around her in a way that neither Tom nor Hal could. Alex couldn't see what Lena saw, but she could feel the ripples of disquiet when something wasn't quite right in her surroundings. She knew the hotel so well that it was easy for her to pick up on disharmony in and around the building, and she was quick to rent-a-ghost to the location of disharmony and set things right.

She checked her 'Alex Box' for requests and occasionally indulged guests in displays of her superpowers, as long as there was no harmful intent. She declined requests to 'scare the pants off' any of the hotel guests. Without really trying, Alex was becoming one of the hotel's star attractions.

The Barry Grand's recent history was an open secret, and most people assumed that Alex was the ghost of one of Hatch's victims. People like to think that reason controls the world, even while facing chaos and madness, and Alex's presence needed a reason that people could accept. Her story became that of a hotel housekeeper whom Hatch killed, and whose ghost remained at the hotel to protect its people from future harm. The Honolulu Heights family was happy to let that gentler fiction take the place of the truth, as it protected them from scrutiny.

Hal was living the closest thing to a normal life he'd ever experienced. During his brief years of humanity Hal hadn't known security, comfort, friendship, or family. The simplest things that children need to flourish had been withheld from him, and he'd grown to manhood without experiencing the love and safety he'd craved. He'd found those things, briefly, with Nastusia; he found them again with Lena. In her company he could push aside the dark centuries of vampirism, with its obscene parodies of family, friendship, and security, and just be himself.

The challenge for Hal was learning what kind of man he was, with the pull of blood removed. He'd become ambitious, devious, murderous, and more as a vampire. As he looked within himself Hal came to accept that he'd been ambitious, devious, and not opposed to killing as a human as well. He'd left the brothel and England determined to make something of himself in the world and willing to do almost anything to improve his circumstances. The vampire had simply elevated those aspects of his character; it hadn't placed them in him.

The 'good Hal' that he despised as weak and futile was no more than a mechanism to deal with the baser aspects of his own human nature. Because the vampire had strengthened his evil proclivities, he'd developed a ridiculously rigid countermeasure to keep them in check. With the hunger controlled, the countermeasure was no longer necessary. 'Good Hal' was a thing of the past, and he was glad to be rid of him.

As Hal came to grips with himself he also came to grips with the truth that Lena knew him better than any other creature on earth. She recognized his ambition and gave him work to match it. For months she'd brought him into every aspect of her business, hiding nothing from him. She trusted him and considered him her first advisor, and her board of directors had been required to recognize him as her de facto partner.

Hal's hard-fought business acumen had saved his life and served him well through the centuries. He'd quickly learned that human minds tend to run in a limited number of circuits, and once an understanding of those circuits had been gained, human behavior had become easy for him to predict. A vampire could go far if he applied the lessons he'd learned during his extensive history, especially when he enhanced his insight with a fine appreciation of violence as a negotiating tactic. Hal had risen as high in vampire hierarchy as he wanted.

Lena's business acumen was beyond any he'd ever seen, however. The depth of her experience and understanding of human nature gave her an edge, so when she sought his advice he took her very seriously. She tended toward generosity in her decision-making, where Hal was firmly fixed on self-interest. Their disagreements served to moderate them both.

Lena also recognized his devious tendencies, enjoyed them, and occasionally put them to use. Hal suspected that she could out-maneuver anyone on the planet, including him if required, and considered his ability to plan multiple strategies for a single intended outcome to be a complement to her own.

Hal found his greatest liberation in the fact that she had no qualms about his killer instinct and admitted that she enjoyed killing with him. In his good cycles his violent tendencies had horrified him, but with his lady it was just a matter of murdering the appropriate type of being at the appropriate time. Killing Hetty's vampire horde had been the most exhilarating hand-to-hand combat Hal had ever experienced. Torturing and killing Andrzej, the Seraphin Nepos who'd betrayed them both centuries before, had been very satisfying. He was happy to let Lena choose their next target and he trusted that she would make use of his skills at every opportunity.

Lena watched her family and reveled in their successes and in their growth. She'd withheld herself from relationships for so long, and this cobbled-together family she'd inadvertently helped create was so unique! She couldn't help but enjoy every moment of it. Lena knew the tenuousness of life; she knew that she only had decades at most in which to enjoy Tom, and she expected the same was true of Alex. At least this time she would have a partner to share her grief when her family members went through their doors—Hal would remain with her always.

She accepted the fact that she was in a holding pattern of sorts. She hunted regularly and removed all the curses and demon-driven activity she could from their home area. Barry, Cardiff, in fact most of South Wales enjoyed a season of happiness and safety because of her activities. She searched for signs of vampire activity, but found none.

She told nobody about the subtly growing darkness she felt at the edge of her consciousness.

Something was coming. Something was coming for her.

They were seated around the dining table with tea, spreadsheets, receipt books, purchase orders, and employee records. Tom was deep into one of his regular lessons on business management. Hal was directing with occasional comments from Lena. Alex listened because she wanted to be prepared to help Tom as much as possible in his position as manager of a newly-renovated, popular hotel. That was their hope and belief, anyway. Tom refused to consider the possibility that his Barry Grand could be anything less than wildly popular.

Hal enjoyed working with Tom on his studies for several reasons; he could use his ill-gotten business experience for a good purpose; it kept him involved in the hotel; he got to spend time with his best mate. To Hal's surprise, Tom had become a quick study who could use the context of his own youthful experiences to help him understand most situations. He didn't always grasp the complexities of human nature, but he understood the need to make the best use of what he had available and he had learned to plan for the future. Tom's maturity was evident in his thoughtful approach to his lessons.

He was also an eager student with the tact not to inquire as to how Hal came by his business acumen. Some questions are best left unasked.

They'd yet to come down to brass tacks on financial management because the Grand hadn't been operating autonomously. Tom had simply signed for deliveries or sent the bills to Lena's corporate office. With the renovation complete, Lena saw no reason not to place the business in Tom's hands and let him run it as an independent entity. With that goal in mind, Tom's lessons had become more focused on the details of financial management.

Hal expected Tom to be put off by the sedentary nature of the tasks and confused by the details of recordkeeping, but he was mistaken. He introduced the weekly operating report, with its list of expenses versus revenue and notation of profit or reason for lack of it, and waited for Tom's reaction.

"It's like buildin' a bomb, Hal. You need all the parts, don'tcha? You have to line 'em up and put 'em together in the right order. If you're missing a bit it just won't work, will it? If you put it together wrong, you get nothin' or you blow yourself up before you're done. But if you do it right, with the right ingredients in the right amounts, and parts that do their jobs—well, it works."

Tom pointed to the pile of papers that he had to use to complete the report. "Here's all the pieces. I put all of these in place and at the end of the report I see if I did it right. I see if I put it all together the way I should've this week. If I did right by the hotel. And if I didn't, this report will tell me what I need more or less of. It'll tell me what parts aren't working like they're supposed to."

Hal gaped at Tom for a moment. He couldn't help it. The young man's unique perspective on life still surprised him.

"Yes, Tom, that is an excellent example," he finally said.

"Good. I need to know how the Grand is doing so I can see how to make it better," Tom said. "I've always made me own way. Don't expect someone else to do a job you can do for yourself. McNair said. But I need to know what I'm up against. How much did the reno cost? What do I owe you, Lena?"

"Nothing, Tom. That's not how it works," Lena replied.

"How does it work, then?"

"A major renovation is a short-term project with a long-term reward. We expect it to take years to pay back the initial expense."

"But what is the 'initial expense'?"

Lena shrugged. She didn't know and didn't really care. To her mind the renovation had been necessary to clear Hatch's remnants from the hotel and give it a fresh start. She was a 'big picture' businesswoman who dealt with details when required, and in this case it hadn't been required.

Hal was able to give Tom the figures immediately, both the cost of the renovation and the additional expense of keeping the hotel staffed while there were no paying guests. Tom paled at the figures. It was even more than he'd expected.

"How'm I ever gonna pay that back?"

"By managing the hotel as efficiently as possible while treating your guests as well as possible. A full hotel will repay those expenses in short order, Tom." Hal was prompt in his reply. In his mind, this was all part of the lesson Tom needed to learn.

"Tom, you're the hotel manager. Paying off the renovation isn't your job. As the owner, that's my job," Lena reminded him.

Tom shook his head stubbornly. Her answer wasn't good enough for him. "When you came here, you said you bought the hotel and the house so you could control the environment around Hal, but he hasn't worked at the hotel since you came. Why'd you want to renovate it, anyway? Why didn't you just clean it up or knock it down?"

"I saw the potential," Lena said.

"How could you see the potential when you didn't even see the building? You barely know where it is, even now," Tom argued.

"I meant the potential in you, Tom," she answered quietly. "I invested in you."

He blushed at her compliment but replied stubbornly, "Then I need to pay back your investment."

"You do. Every day, you do. I'm so proud of you, so pleased that I get to be a part of your family. My investment has already paid off tenfold as far as I'm concerned."

Tom blushed again and shifted uncomfortably at her warm praise. "Humph," he said. "I reckon I'll go with Hal's idea and run the hotel as well as I can. That's something I can get my hands on."

When the lesson was finished Alex turned on the television. She wanted to watch a documentary on the massive rebuilding effort that was taking place in areas Lena had devastated during her worldwide tantrum and the subsequent women's revolution that she'd triggered.

The Safe Angel Initiative had sprung to life almost immediately following Lena's rampage, and businesses and non-profit groups around the world jumped on board. New communities with clean housing, medical facilities, schools, shops, and industry were sprouting up everywhere, and not just in the cities that had been the focus of Lena's attacks. The model, based on input from women and children in each community, was flourishing as a new way to respond positively to the problem of refugees in countries across the globe.

The Safe Angel Initiative set up temporary facilities first, then began the process of building permanent communities that suited the cultural needs and geographic nature of the location. When governments refused to allow the SAI access to a devastated area, the organization simply bought property from whomever it could and moved refugees who were willing to travel. Home-based businesses and small-scale agriculture quickly followed the first wave of temporary housing as women were given the training and opportunity to become self-sufficient.

Soon industry representatives were asking for a chance to build in SAI communities as the determined nature of the potential work force came to light. Governments that refused to talk with SAI representatives saw their finances suffer as SAI money poured into areas that welcomed the organization. As SAI community members became financially self-sufficient, SAI-sanctioned businesses reaped the benefits in commerce within the community. The power of a woman had never been as clearly imprinted on the world as it was in the SAI model.

SAI communities had their own laws and law enforcement, so crimes against women and children were not tolerated. Men who entered the communities did so with the understanding that there was true equality under the law, regardless of what may be acceptable in other areas. Religion was accepted, but any ritual that involved subjugation or mutilation was forbidden.

The SAI was well-thought-out and smoothly run. There hadn't been a single scandal or suggestion of misappropriation of funds. It was a remarkable feat, made even more remarkable by the fact that its CEO was a woman with no prior executive experience. Leylak Tarih was the wife of an affluent businessman from Istanbul, an apolitical nonreligious college graduate, and a fair, level-headed, formidable woman.

The news presenter who narrated the documentary said it may be the most impressive example of single-minded altruism in the history of humanity. The fact that it had appeared spontaneously, and somewhat mysteriously, as a finished construct without the typical growing pains that such a venture would usually experience, made it even more impressive.

Tom, Hal, and Lena had joined Alex to watch the documentary. As the closing credits rolled, Hal turned to Lena and murmured, "You'll bankrupt yourself if you keep this up."

"I doubt it. And if I do, what better cause could there be?" she replied softly.

"What's that?" Tom's hearing was sharper than usual, thanks to the impending full moon. "You're part of the Safe Angel Initiative?"

"Who do you think started it?" Hal answered for her. "Half of the companies mentioned in that programme belong to her, at least until she bankrupts them and has to sell off the remnants to pay her bills."

"I'm nowhere near that point," Lena argued. "The SAI is another example of a short-term investment with a long-term payback. SAI communities will become self-sufficient and begin donating back to the SAI trust, which will help the program keep growing. And more people are joining all the time. The load is already shifting, Hal. Just be patient. You'll see."

Hal didn't want to be patient. She'd consistently refused to listen to his concerns, but maybe with Tom and Alex in the conversation she would finally pay attention. "You're pouring every bit of current revenue into the SAI and you've drained your savings. I've seen you close account after account, wealth you've had for centuries gone in a fortnight. If you're not careful you'll have nothing left but the Barry Grand."

Lena shrugged and shook her head. "I've always cleaned up after myself. That's what the savings are for. This is just the biggest cleanup, ever, that's all."

"It sounds like you're doing more than just cleanup," Alex said. "It sounds like you're making a lot of lives better than they were. You're changing the world, Lena. I think that's a great way to spend your money."

"That answers that," Tom added. "I thought you'd be involved in the SAI. It's like you." He smiled at her as he spoke. Tom was relieved to learn that Lena was doing everything she could to improve the places she'd damaged.

"Can any of you see past the sentimental nobility to the cold reality of this situation? Lena is going broke." Hal's exasperation was clear. "Her carefully constructed business is falling apart. Soon she will be selling off assets that she's owned, literally, since their inception." He turned to her. "All the business acumen and strategic planning in the world can't help you if you insist on supporting this SAI venture to the extent that you have done thus far. It will break you."

She studied his face quietly for a moment. "You are genuinely concerned for me, aren't you? You know wealth doesn't matter to me beyond what I can use it for. This is what I want to use it for."

"And what happens to your loyal employees when you sell off your assets piecemeal? Will the next employer be as willing to hire supernaturals? Will the next business owner extend the same generous benefits packages? Will they even be able to keep their jobs? There's more at stake here than your own interests, my lady."

"I know that, Hal. Do you honestly believe I have reached that point with my finances?"

"I think you are dangerously close, yes."

"Then for the sake of your peace of mind, I will change tactics," Lena said firmly. "Time to bring new money into the endeavor."

"How're you going to do that?" Tom asked. "That show made it sound like everyone in the world knows about the SAI. Seems to me that all the rich people who want to donate already are."

"There are plenty of very wealthy people left in the world. It's just a matter of removing their money from them and giving it to the SAI trust," Lena said.

"We could rent-a-ghost into their vaults and take some," Alex offered with more enthusiasm than she probably should have. "We can be like Robin Hood! Steal from the rich to help the poor."

Hal snorted at the notion of Lena as bank robber. Didn't Alex realize that such behaviour was beneath her?

"That won't work, Alex, not in today's world," Lena said. "Wealth these days is seldom in easily-accessible piles, and when it is, it is also closely guarded and counted regularly. We can't just pop in, grab a few bags of gold, and pop out again."

"Too bad." Alex was clearly disappointed.

"I know. I'd totally bring you with me on a heist if I thought we could clear out enough money to make it worth our while," Lena said. "You know, some of those guys **do** still have storerooms with piles of wealth," she continued. "I wonder…"

"You're not seriously considering such an absurd course of action!" Hal interrupted.

Lena shrugged. "Why not? Why not go for the treasuries of the people who actively promoted and who profited from the enslavement of women and children? It seems fair to me, and lord knows I've done it plenty of times in the past. The financial world is much more complex now, so it's hard to trace the money back to its rotten source. Otherwise I probably would have already made a few strategic withdrawals." She grinned at the last few words. Strategic withdrawals had at one time been her specialty and her way of repaying the victims of evil deeds.

Tom was reminded of his own less than pure history of petty theft as a means of survival. McNair said it wasn't stealing if it was from a big shop. Maybe Lena had the same kind of idea.

"You mean, it isn't stealing if you take back the money from a thief? But they aren't really thieves are they? They take money for doing bad things, but they don't steal the money."

"A pirate's loot is never his own, it belongs to his victims. It may be from outright theft or from ransoming a prisoner, but either way it is ill-gotten gains," Lena said. "Come on, Hal, you refused to claim your interests in the Intercontinental cruise line because you said your money was ill-gotten. Why are you opposed to this idea?"

"I'm opposed to you becoming a petty criminal, however you choose to justify your actions," he snapped.

She gave him a predator's narrow look and purred, "Oh honey, I'm never petty." Hal's breath caught as he recognized the promise of danger in her tone.

"But you're right," she continued. "It's a bad idea, mainly because the amount I'd need to steal would be quickly detected and somebody would be made to pay for the crime. No, we need another way. We need to make these guys desperate to give SAI their money."

"How do you propose to do that?" Hal asked.

Lena smiled her signature lopsided smile that meant she was about to surprise them. "You all know _Raiders of the Lost Ark_, right?"

"Oh my god!" Alex squealed. "You know where the Ark of the Covenant is!"

"You can't sell the Ark of the Covenant," Hal said at the same time.

"I'm not going to sell the Ark of the Covenant," Lena said.

"Wait—you know where the Ark of the Covenant is?" Tom asked.

"Yes, but that's not the point. I just mean that there are hidden treasures in the world that people will pay a lot of money for. All we need to do is retrieve one, donate it anonymously to the SAI trust, and watch the bidding begin." Lena smiled at her simple plan.

"We?" Hal got to the point.

"Yes, 'we'. You're coming along on this expedition," Lena said.

He arched his eyebrows briefly as a smile crossed his face. "At present I have neither a whip nor a Fedora, although I've been told I look good in both."

"Mmm, that sounds like a whole different kind of adventure," Lena said. "You won't need a whip for this gig."

"How about the Fedora? And a sturdy leather jacket, of course." Hal was joking now. He wasn't sure what kind of adventure Lena had planned, but he liked the idea of doing something new with her.

"You'll want boots as well," Lena said. "We're going to mine a diamond."

"Just one?"

"For now. We'll start in the morning." She got to her feet, stretched, and turned to Tom and Alex. "Goodnight, youngsters."

"Goodnight, oldsters," Alex retorted with a smile. The good-natured taunts had become routine.

Hal rose from the sectional as well. "South Africa?"

"Brazil."

_Brazil! _The word flared through his imagination. _Could she know the location of a red diamond?_ Red, the rarest diamond on earth. Hal had only seen pictures, but they were enough to ignite his desire to own one of the blood-colored stones. The largest known red diamonds had come from Brazil.

Lena saw the glint in his eyes and smiled. Trust Hal to know about valuable gemstones. They might have to bring back two diamonds, one for the SAI and one for him.

Hal considered his geography as the idea of a trip to South America became more real in his mind. With Lena it would just be a matter of a few seconds to travel halfway around the world and to the Southern Hemisphere.

"Bolivia is just next door to Brazil," he observed as they went upstairs to begin their nighttime routine, "especially if we are going to the Alto Paranaiba region of Brazil."

"We may be," Lena said. "Are you considering a detour?"

"It's worth considering, don't you think?"

"Possibly. Have you been to Snow's stronghold?"

"Just once. He required every Old One to make the pilgrimage. I didn't care for it—very uncomfortable climate, and everyone tasted of yerba mate."

"Do you think you could find it again?"

"I'd like to try," he said. His tone grew grim as he continued. "That's Hetty's home now. I'd like to pay her a visit, uninvited, as she chose to do to our home."

"Turnabout is fair play." Lena's tone was grim as well.

"Precisely."

The conversation continued as they went through their nighttime routine and settled into bed. Lena was determined to focus on retrieval of a red diamond large enough to create an international stir, once it was donated to the SAI. She wanted a bidding war of epic proportion, so she needed a rough stone large enough to have an incalculable value.

Hal wanted to learn the secret behind the red diamond—its location and the story he knew came with it. He also wanted one last visit to the vampire stronghold in Bolivia. He insisted that he could find Mr. Snow's fortress even though he'd only been there once, over a century ago. Lena reminded him that the area may have changed and that they didn't have time to go on a search for the place. Not only that, but she doubted his ability to lead them to it from an aerial perspective.

Hal realized that she may have a point, but he wasn't ready to concede the argument and chose to change the subject instead.

"You do realize that our conversation is distracting us from more interesting activities," he pointed out as he put a hand on her waist and pulled her against him. He stopped her reply with a kiss.

It was only a temporary distraction.

"Are you trying to shut me up?" Lena asked good-naturedly as she pushed them apart. It was hardly the first time he'd employed that tactic.

"I'm saying that there are better uses for your mouth," Hal replied with a quick, lopsided smile. Her heart skipped, as he knew it would. Vampire senses are a handy tool with which to learn a woman's weaknesses, and Hal had memorized hers. That particular smile, endearing with a hint of wicked, was one of them.

His next kiss was lingering, invasive, and accompanied by the brush of his erection against her body. _That should do_, he thought.

But when his mouth moved from her lips to the delicate skin behind her ear, she continued speaking.

"I just think you need to consider the logistics of the thing." Lena's mind was still on their South American expedition.

Hal pressed his erection more firmly against her. "Clearly you need something beside my lips with which to occupy your mouth," he murmured into her ear.

"That's a bit of a one-sided offer, isn't it?"

"Are you suggesting…"

"69?"

He winced. "What a brutish term. Modern parlance is inelegant at best."

When she didn't reply he reluctantly turned his attention away from what he'd assumed would be successful foreplay. Something was making her thoughtful.

"You haven't suggested that course of activity since we've become intimate," he said quietly. "I thought perhaps you were no longer interested…" He trailed off, giving her an opening in which to respond.

"You mean, since we've become intimate with me as a woman," she said.

There was a quiet moment as she gathered her thoughts. She could spend forever right here, with his hand idly caressing her breast, his leg draped over hers, his eyes watching her, warm with desire. Five centuries without the touch of skin against hers, without the scent of a lover mingling with her own. Five centuries of lonely beds and an ache in her belly that nothing could ever quite erase. Until they'd worked their way back to each other, and now she had a lover unlike any she'd ever known. She was grateful.

She was also determined to be honest with him this time. No secrets in their bed. No secrets beyond those she _had_ to keep, from him and the rest of the world.

"There are moments when I miss being Pet." She saw his surprise at her reference to the male form she'd assumed temporarily early on in their intimate times. Pet had allowed them to avoid Hal's unique weakness for women and had kept the vampire out of their bed until they'd found a way to permanently disable it.

She continued. "I love what you do to me in this form, and nothing is better. But no matter how amazing you are with these—" she kissed him to signify his lips "—I feel unfinished without this—" she stroked his erection "—buried in me."

"Which won't happen if we satisfy each other orally." Hal finished her thought to show his understanding. "Not for a few minutes, at least," he added with another wicked grin.

She returned his grin with her own seductive smile. "Especially if I do my part well."

"And you do, my lady, you most certainly do."

"Pet doesn't have that sense of emptiness. It must be a female thing, at least for me. My first transformation was because I needed you in me and that was the only safe way. But Pet can be satisfied without it as well." Lena sighed. "Men are weird," she summarized.

"Women are an enigma," Hal replied. She'd once again proven how little he understood her.

Hal moved away from her and settled onto his back. He frowned at the ceiling thoughtfully. He could stay here forever, in the safety of their private space. Hal knew himself to be a coward—how else could he explain his continued existence—but he was determined not to be cowardly with Lena. Not any longer. Finally he spoke.

"Tom and Alex are still downstairs."

It was more statement than question, but Lena replied anyway.

"Yes."

"Would Pet care to join me for a cup of tea? I think it's time I introduce him formally to our housemates."

"You don't need to do that, Hal. There are plenty of other ways for us to occupy ourselves. Or Pet can stay here in the bedroom, if you like."

"No. I told you I wouldn't do that to you again. Pet won't be my dirty little secret." Hal sat up and turned to her. "I'm—bisexual," he said with forced nonchalance. "My housemates won't have a problem accepting that, I've just had a problem admitting it to them. Historically I've only chosen to act on those interests while on the blood, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"You prefer women."

"And you prefer men. Fortunately for me, as I can't be anything else. Man or monster are your only options with me as a lover," he admitted. "But if there are things you want to do as Pet, I'm happy to oblige. Pet has a special place in my heart," he concluded with a smile.

"In that case, yes, Pet would like to join you for tea and introductions."

Lena smiled as she got out of bed. Hal was trying very hard to be honest about himself. It was a challenge for him, especially when it came to behaviors that he linked closely to the vampire. He still struggled to find the man who'd been buried under the curse all those centuries, and sometimes the man he found made him uncomfortable.

He'd been badly abused as a child growing up in a brothel. She knew that he wondered, sometimes, whether he'd brought it on himself. Perhaps something in him had told the brothel's owner that he could accept being used by men. Perhaps he'd shown a hint of curiosity or interest. Hal had become popular with a particular clientele, and when he grew old and strong enough to become dominant he'd become even more popular. She knew him well enough to know that he blamed himself for his popularity.

The victim turned survivor often blames himself; it is a heartbreaking element of human nature.

She was painfully familiar with it herself.


	2. Honesty

Tom McNair was a hunter. He wasn't a young man who knew how to hunt, nor was he a sportsman. Tom McNair was a hunter in the same way that he was a man—intuitively, with a lifetime of practice and observation that soaked through the skin and became part of his being. A hunter has a deeper recognition of the physical world than most people. Even when he isn't hunting, the true hunter is always aware.

The pull of the wolf heightened his abilities, but Tom read the world around him with a hunter's sharpened perception at all times. He judged Alex's tangibility by the weight of her footsteps and the sharp creak of her leather jacket. He judged Hal's moods by the stiffness of his spine and the flare of his nostrils. As for Lena, every movement told a story. She danced her way through the world and Tom learned to let the dance speak to him.

Tom knew far more than he let on. His senses fed him information beyond what his housemates realized, and at times beyond his ability to interpret. He was an animal hunter, not a hunter of humans.

Animals are honest. They leave tracks, they mark territory, they run, hide, or fight based on their nature. Tom grew up hunting animals and the smallest traces of their passing were evident to him. Even their sounds, or the lack of sound in a space, helped him track them down. Vampires were little more than high-functioning animals in Tom's mind. The blood turned them into predators, but Tom and his dad were the top predators in their world.

Then vampires killed McNair, and his legacy to Tom was the request that he make more of himself than McNair had taught him to be. What's a hunter to do, when the hunt is no longer the goal? He moves, sometimes reluctantly, into the world of people.

People aren't honest. They lie to each other and to themselves. As a hunter, Tom tracked the people around him. It was as natural as breathing and sometimes part of it. A breath, and he tracked the cologne of the lady from table 6 to her room in the east wing. He observed that she'd left over half of her breakfast. He didn't know why. The 'why' bothered him and pushed him to learn more about people, to become more thoughtful of the humans around him. He needed to read their tracks, to understand them, if he was going to become comfortable in their world.

The 'why' behind animal behavior was easy for Tom to discover: food, shelter, a threat, or a mate. Tom learned that people have too many 'whys' for a hunter to follow.

Tom knew more about Hal Yorke than he let on. He'd studied Hal from day one. He'd watched and listened and thought about the tracks Hal made in his world. He'd watched Hal in the chair, and he'd listened to his threats, to the babbling, and to the terrified rages of his nightmares. Tom didn't know what it all meant, but he thought that if he could learn to understand Hal he could probably understand anybody.

Hal had both threatened and propositioned Tom during the cruel swings of his withdrawal. He growled and muttered, and spat out vile details of what he'd do to Tom once he'd freed himself from the chair. Things he'd done to other men who'd challenged him or who'd drawn his interest. Hal was brutally specific in his description, and Tom's stomach turned. He wanted to hide in the bathroom and puke, but he didn't let Hal see it. No weakness. Never show weakness to your enemy. McNair said.

Hal also whispered lewd promises of secret delights that he'd give to Tom, if only he were allowed. Tom politely declined. Hal was a good-lookin' bloke when he was cleaned up and not filthy and stinkin'. Tom just wasn't interested in what Hal had to offer. In fact, he didn't understand most of it and didn't realize how great those activities could be until Alex became his girlfriend. Tom decided that he liked girls for that kind of thing, and by girls he meant Alex. No amount of big eyes and sweet cologne could lure him away from her.

Hal never mentioned those times in the chair. He refrained from discussing the details of his withdrawal and had simply issued generalized apologies for the 'unpleasantness' he'd put his housemates through. Sometimes he obliquely referred to 'hallucinations' and led Tom and Alex to believe that he wasn't sure how much had happened and how much he'd dreamed. Tom figured Hal was lying about that, but he let it go. If he had as much to apologize for as Hal, he'd probably try the same trick. A bloke could get tired of apologizing after a few centuries.

Tom knew when Hal and Lena became intimate. He'd seen enough mating seasons to pick up the signs, and to be honest they weren't trying to hide it. Tom knew more than he let on. He knew from subtle changes in scent, the weight of footsteps, the tone and timbre of whispered voices, that sometimes there were two men in Lena's bed. Two men and no women.

Hal and Lena didn't say anything and neither did Tom. He remembered the shock of seeing the red-haired man sleeping with Hal early that morning when he'd burst in on them. He remembered Hal's embarrassment at being caught. Tom was surprised that Lena put up with Hal's attitude about having a male partner, surprised that she would change into something she wasn't and hide herself away to please Hal. When Tom stopped noticing the red-haired man he figured Lena had put her foot down about it.

So when Tom heard them coming back downstairs just a short time after saying goodnight, he knew something had changed. He knew from the sound of their movement that Hal and somebody not Lena was heading their way. He caught the scent before they came into view. It was the red-haired fellow. Tom didn't look toward the stairs; he watched Alex for her reaction.

Alex turned to question Hal and Lena as to why they were back so soon, but her eyes got big and her mouth hung open for a moment, until she remembered to snap it shut. Why was Lena being a man? And why was Hal holding her/his hand like that? Alex turned to Tom with the question on her face.

Tom shrugged. "They like variety," he said.

"Did you know about this?" Alex whispered fiercely.

"Naw, not really. Not my business, is it?"

The red-haired man called through the pass-through window, "Want some tea, Tom?"

"No thanks, I have some," Tom answered casually, holding his mug aloft as evidence.

"Drink fast," Alex whispered, "so we can take the empty mug back to the kitchen."

Tom chuckled, "Come on, then," he said as he got to his feet. "Let's get on with it."

Hal wore pyjamas, slippers, and a tasteful dressing gown. The dressing gown was an extra shield against prying eyes—he hoped it would disguise his alarmingly urgent response to Pet's presence. He hadn't watched Lena transform into Pet, but had instead focused on getting dressed before turning to see his Pet pull on a pair of Lena's sweatpants. Hal should have waited a minute longer; Pet's nearly-naked form was so enticing that they almost didn't make it out of the room. Hal reached for his dressing gown instead of his Pet, and Pet put on a t-shirt with the symbols for barium, cobalt, and nitrogen. Ba-Co-N. Lena's taste in clothes hadn't improved, in spite of Hal's efforts.

Hal took Pet's hand and led him down the stairs and into the kitchen. They got their tea things as always and waited quietly for the tea to brew and for their housemates join them. When Tom and Alex entered the kitchen Hal stiffened for a moment, then took a breath and smiled at them. He'd locked his body down, for the most part, and was certain that his inner turmoil wouldn't register on the surface. Once again, centuries of dealing with beings who could detect minute changes in their adversaries would serve him well.

He pushed away from the counter where he'd been leaning next to Pet. "Come to meet my boyfriend?" he asked casually.

"We've already met," Tom reminded him. "We came for the formal introductions."

Hal had already planned for discretion while making those introductions. He would use the name 'Len' with his housemates, rather than 'Pet'. He didn't get the chance.

"He calls me Pet," his boyfriend said with a smirk. "It was his turn to use it."

Hal's easy smile twitched momentarily before resettling. So much for discretion.

Tom's eyebrows shot up at the name, but after a moment he nodded. Of course, Hal would want to turn things around on Lena when he had the chance. She'd called him Pet and even kept him on a leash when she first came to Honolulu Heights.

Alex, as always, went for the meaning behind the words. "Pet? So does that mean you're…No way. You're bottom?"

Pet nodded. "I'm the submissive, of course. That's not Hal's thing."

Alex shook her head, refusing to believe that her friend could let anyone dominate her no matter what form she took.

Pet continued. "It was my idea. I offered this form to Hal with exactly that in mind. It threw him for a loop at first, but he agreed to try it and I'm glad he did."

"You chose the role, but we are partners," Hal said with a warm look at Pet. "I simply have more experience with this type of activity."

He turned back to Tom and Alex. "I'm bisexual," he said calmly.

They had no idea how much effort it took him to say it. For a moment he wished he could drink blood again, so he could revel in his debauchery and feel no shame. Hal mentally checked himself. His love for Lena, and through her for Pet, was neither debauched nor shameful. His own prejudices caused his struggle.

"You've done a good job of hiding it," Alex observed. "Why didn't you just say so before? Why'd you decide to say something now?"

"Because of a remnant from my human years that I've never been comfortable with," Hal said. "Until recently I've only acted on those interests when on the blood, because of some—unfortunate—memories that are attached." He frowned at the floor between them for a moment.

"I believe I should tell you," he said. "Lena knows of my cruelty and of its origin. She gave me Pet in spite of what she knows. If she can trust **me,** perhaps I should trust you."

"You, telling a secret before it's forced out of you? That would be something," Alex said. She used sarcasm to hide the fact that she was moved, and a little scared of what Hal might confess.

They sat at the kitchen table. Pet quietly rested a hand on Hal's forearm as he began.

"I was born in a brothel, very likely in 1490. I don't know the date, just as I don't know the identity of my father or, for that matter, my mother. There were six women, all of whom cared for me as their—schedules—allowed. None claimed me. I belonged to the place and by default to its owner, a man named Yorke. I don't believe he was my father. I hope he was not."

"In those days children born to whores had no value. I'm surprised I wasn't killed while still an infant, but for some reason the women, my 'mothers', kept me alive. They were illiterate and superstitious, and it's possible that I was the son of a priest who visited on occasion. The priest spent time with each of them, offering private confession of their sins and giving them extra coin for their services. Apparently he'd been given special dispensation to attend to the needs of a certain population. As I said, the women were illiterate and superstitious."

"Perhaps they kept me alive as a bargaining chip with the priest, as a defense against damnation. If one had acknowledged me, the others would no longer have received his 'divine protection.'" Hal spat out the words; his disgust at the man and his perversion of faith was apparent.

"I was put to work while very young, and by the time the priest stopped visiting I'd begun to earn my keep by cleaning the premises and running errands. Then Yorke found another use for me."

Hal's self-control was wearing thin. He was about to become emotional and that wouldn't do. Emotions could be a weakness, and even with his housemates Hal hated to admit to weakness. His tension was clear in his grip, which threatened to break his teacup. He unwrapped his hands from around it and set a hand on each thigh instead. Better to bruise himself than to damage the crockery. Hal felt a warm hand cover his own. Pet was leaning toward him, giving him the touch and stability that he needed.

"Lima beans," Pet murmured.

It was their code for "I love you." Those words couldn't be spoken. They drew attention from immortal elements that would rejoice in Lena's destruction and use him, Tom, and Alex to secure it. Love was a weapon that Lena's nemesis, Lucifer, could use against her, so she hid her truth in the ordinary chatter of the dinner table. She was careful to protect her family.

Lena shone through Pet's brown eyes and gave Hal the courage to continue. She knew his nightmares and his history, but he'd never spoken of these things directly to anyone except her. He turned his gaze to the table so as not to see the pain he knew would soon be apparent in those warm brown eyes.

"Paedophilia," he said softly. "It means child-love, _love_ for a child. At one time philia meant friendship. The more recent use of the term is another thing entirely. In my case, there was no love attached to the acts that were perpetrated against my young body."

In the stunned silence that followed, Hal heard three sets of heartbeats besides his own. He looked across the table at Alex, tangible, clinging to Tom's hand with tears beginning to roll down her face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

It took Hal a moment to realize what it meant. Alex was so strongly connected to them that she no longer had to work to be tangible with her family. She'd reached a point where she could just 'be' without thought. Her emotional stress would have unmoored her and she would have lost her solidity if it weren't so.

Another thing to be thankful for. Family. Love. He felt it settle on him like a warm blanket. Finally, after five centuries, he was safe.

"I was used to the random slap or kick," Hal said. "Pain was a normal part of my world. But it was honest pain, not disguised by false affection. The first time, Yorke took my hand and led me into a room. He said a man was there who wanted to be my friend. He said the man had treats. Yorke had never bothered to lie to me, so I didn't think to question him. I was eight years old."

"My new friend wanted me to play a game. I didn't like the game, but I knew better than to argue. I found out later that he'd approached Yorke about me. He wanted me; he wanted to be the first. He knew that my body wouldn't accommodate some activities so he taught me to pleasure him in ways I could. It was unpleasant and sometimes uncomfortable, but certainly not unbearable."

"There were other men. My friend brought them to the brothel and Yorke happily took their money. The women, my mothers, told me I was lucky. The men sometimes brought food, and there were drinks that made me forget. Then one day, my friend changed. He always looked—hungry—when I came to the room, but this time he looked different. Not just hungry, but sharp. Cold. Not friendly. I thought I'd done something to anger him, but he wasn't angry. He was just tired of waiting."

Hal paused to let the memory sink into him. He hadn't looked at it for a very long time. It was ugly, heavy, coated in blood and fear. His helplessness. His tears. His incoherent pleas for it to stop. Hal had tried to put the memory down and walk away. He'd tried to drown it in the torment of victims even younger than he had been. Nothing worked. It was his to keep and carry. It was his to share with the family who loved him. He continued quickly, before he lost his nerve.

"I learned a new pain that day. My body was torn. My trust was broken. After that day, I fought the trip to the room. I was too small to put up much of a fight at first, so I learned to run. I learned to hide. Eventually I became strong enough to fight off the men who wanted to use me, and I learned to use them instead. I began to earn my own living in the brothel. When the last of my mothers died I took my pitiful savings and left."

Hal took a steadying breath and waited. He needed a moment before moving to the next part of his story, and he believed his family needed time to absorb this part of it.

"Mate, I'm sorry you had to live like that," Tom said quietly.

Hal felt a twinge of shame at the times he'd ridiculed Tom's campervan and backwards upbringing. His snobbery had hidden his own ghastly childhood.

"Thank you, Tom. That is kind of you to say," Hal said with a quick smile to his friend. He turned to Pet sitting quietly next to him. Hal saw something new in Pet's eyes. Pride. Lena was proud of him for telling a painful truth. Hal feared that pride would be gone by the time he was finished with his story. He returned his focus to the table.

"As a human I refused to admit that I might be what we now call bisexual. Once I'd left the brothel I never looked at another man. If I felt a stirring of interest, I told myself it was reflex born from years of habit. It wasn't me. There was too much pain attached, too much shame. It couldn't be me."

"I learned some things about myself in the brothel," Hal continued. "I learned to be cruel and I learned that I liked it. I enjoy dominance and inflicting pain on others. As a human I convinced myself that the men who came to me wanted to be hurt. They paid for the privilege. As a vampire it didn't matter. Torture was part of the thrill, and the moment of betrayal, the moment when my victims realized that I wasn't their friend—well, it made their deaths all the sweeter. I did to others what had been done to me, and more. Men and boys. I tore their bodies and I drained them dry. I reveled in my depravity."

Hal felt the mood shift from sympathetic to somber as he spoke. He'd expected as much. Tom and Alex were too decent to be comfortable with the details of his murderous acts, and he didn't want their sympathy to last. He didn't deserve it. He wouldn't use his childhood to justify himself any longer.

"I took lovers, male and female, from among the vampires I met. I prefer women, but men have their merits as well. As I moved up in the hierarchy, I learned that I could have whomever I chose. They didn't dare object."

"Vampires heal quickly. Sometimes I envied my lovers their ability to recuperate so swiftly from my...attentions. I could have used that ability when I was a child. But I shouldn't have envied them. They needed vampire regeneration by the time I'd made full use of them."

Hal had kept his eyes fixed on the table and his cup of cold tea as he spoke. He paused, unable to continue. He'd never spoken so long about himself, or so openly, to anyone but Lena. He felt naked and exposed under Tom and Alex's condemnation. He'd trusted them with too much—nobody should be asked to accept the things he'd done.

Pet was getting out of his chair. Hal's heart stopped—Pet was leaving the table, leaving him to face Tom and Alex alone. But Pet didn't leave, he knelt next to Hal and wrapped him in a hug, chair and all. He squeezed his torso between Hal and the table as best he could, pinned Hal's rigid arms alongside his body, and held him tight, giving Hal the security he needed. Hal hid his face in Pet's curls and breathed in his scent as his hands unconsciously clutched at his Pet to hold him close.

"Thank you," he whispered to Pet.

"Welcome," Pet whispered back.

Pet released Hal from the hug but caught his hand and kept it as he returned to his chair. Their clasped hands rested on the table as Hal continued.

"Then, Pet appeared," he said with a smile at his lover. "Knowing my history as a vampire, knowing that I was in the habit of brutally using my male lovers, Pet appeared. Pet trusted me and put himself in my hands. He was virginal in his male experience and he asked me to be his guide. His teacher. I was happy to oblige, but I was unwilling to allow Pet beyond the bedroom. He was held prisoner by my reluctance to admit the truth about myself."

"That wasn't right, Hal," Tom said. "That wasn't fair to Lena."

"What part of this story **is **right or fair, Tom? For centuries I've blamed the blood for my behaviour, but the truth is that I was cruel as a human. My maker chose to recruit me for a reason. He saw what I was."

"So why are you here now?" Alex addressed her question to Pet, not to Hal. She didn't want to look at Hal, let alone talk to him.

"Hal sent me away several months ago," Pet explained. "He didn't want to be unfair to me any longer, so he said that until he could introduce me to you and Tom, this form of me would have to stay away."

"And what? He wants you badly enough now? He'll go through all this to have you now?" Alex asked.

"No, I want him," Pet said. "I told him that I wanted to be with him in this form. He's doing this for me, Alex, not for himself."

"Although I do intend to enjoy myself, Pet. It isn't just for you," Hal interrupted with a gentle smile.

"I don't get it," Tom said. "What's it like? Being bisexual. I know what happens, you talked about it in the chair, but—" At Hal's pained look, Tom shut his mouth. He hadn't meant to say anything about that.

"I'd hoped those were hallucinations or nightmares," Hal said after an awkward silence. He swallowed. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Alex looked from Tom to Hal and back again as they both stared intently at the salt and pepper sitting in the center of the table.

"Did Mr. Creepy proposition you too? Tom? Did he?" Tom nodded his head as Hal blushed. "Shite! I thought it was just me," Alex said. "At least he didn't offer us a three-way, eh?"

"Alex!" Tom frowned as he chastised her.

"Sorry!" She'd misjudged the mood again.

"Hallucination, then," Hal muttered to himself. His friends stared at him as he shrugged. "Vampires aren't particular about numbers," he said. "Just to be clear, that would have been the blood talking, not the man."

Alex gave him a look. "If you say so."

Tom returned to his original question. "What's it like? You like women better, but you like men too? How does that work?"

"I don't know how it works, I just know that's how I am," Hal answered evenly.

"What about you?" Tom asked Pet. "Are you bisexual too?"

"In my female form I prefer men, although I've been with women. In this form I only want him." Pet nodded toward Hal. "I told him I'm Hal-sexual."

"You're lucky he doesn't like animals," Alex said to Pet. "You don't, do you?" she asked as she turned her attention to Hal.

"No."

Alex persisted. "Are you pansexual?"

"I don't know what that means, Alex," was his curt reply.

"It means you'll shag anyone, regardless of gender identity. I'll bet most vampires are pansexual," she said.

"Yes, when they are blood-drunk most vampires would be considered pansexual," Hal said. "In fact, with the blending of wardrobes and lack of gender-specific societal roles, I'd wager that most modern vampires don't know what kind of victim they've got until they taste it."

"I'd probably consider myself pansexual," Pet said. "Or I was, until Hal. Now he's all I want."

"I think I get it," Tom said. "Let's say you're hunting for pheasant because you really want roast pheasant for supper. You go out looking for signs of pheasant, but you see signs of grouse instead. Grouse is just about as good, so you bring home grouse for supper. It isn't your favourite, but you like it well enough when it's done up right."

"An apt description, Tom." Hal nodded his approval. "Pheasant is my favourite, but grouse can be a very good meal as well."

"If you like pheasant better, why'd you want Lena to be a grouse?" Tom asked.

"It wasn't Hal's idea, Tom, it was mine," Pet reminded him. "Hal told you that it's harder for him to control the vampire with women, right? Well, I wanted to have sex and he didn't think he could keep the vampire out of it. So I did this, and it worked."

"You sure you've never done it with an animal?" Alex asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Hal snapped. "Look Alex, even I have standards, okay? I don't like animal blood and I'm not attracted to animals. I'm not attracted to animals, plants, furniture, or housewares. Anything else you want to ask?"

Pet grinned. "What about mythical creatures?" he asked.

Three heads whipped around in unison as the housemates stared at him. Pet shrugged.

"Just asking. I do a lovely centaur. Female, of course."

Hal pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache this conversation was causing.

"No. Thank you. Really, it's kind of you to offer, but no." He sighed. "I think we've had enough talk about my private life for one night. In fact, I may have lost interest in this entire endeavor."

In response, Pet grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him into a nice, juicy kiss. Hal immediately found his interest in their endeavor.

"Did that re-light your candle?" Pet smirked when he released Hal.

He pretended to think about Pet's question for a moment before answering with his own question.

"Et si…une petite gâterie? Un soixante-neuf, ca te dit?" He got to his feet as he finished the question.

"Bien sûr que oui!" Pet said as Hal pulled him out of his chair.

The two embraced and began an ardent kiss that vanished when they did, leaving Tom and Alex alone in the kitchen.

"I don't know what they're talking about, but it must have been pretty important," Tom said. "Hal left their dirty cups on the table."

"I say we do the same," Alex said. "Come on, Tom, let's go make out on the sofa. We can find a horror movie and I'll pretend to be scared."

Tom chuckled good-naturedly as he let Alex lead him back to the living room. They knew too much about real horror to ever take a movie seriously, but making out on the sofa sounded like fun. Considering Alex's reaction to Hal speaking what sounded like French, maybe they should skip the horror and find a foreign language film tonight.

It had turned into the kind of night that travelers regret the next day, when they're tired and don't have a place to rest or time in the schedule for it.

Hal and Pet were stretched out on the bed, head-to-foot. Pet lifted a lazy arm.

"Hey," he said.

Hal tossed him a pillow. Pet tucked it under his head and pulled the jumbled covers over some parts of them both.

"Why does French always sound sexy?" Pet wondered idly.

"To be fair, that was supposed to be sexy," Hal replied. "And discreet. Neither Tom nor Alex speak French."

"I doubt they speak any of the other half-dozen languages you could have used," Pet pointed out. "But a proposition of that nature sounds best in French. Elegant. Not at all brutish." Pet chuckled as he recalled Hal's earlier complaints.

Hal leisurely ran a hand over Pet's leg. Now that the excitement was over, his thoughts began to drift toward their South American expedition.

"I suppose we should get a few hours of sleep," he said. "Big day tomorrow?"

"Possibly. I think we should drive to London, get our outfit together, and stay the night. Fly to Brazil the next day. You don't mind, do you?"

"A chance to spend another evening in London with you? I don't mind at all," Hal said. "I'm curious as to what 'outfit' you think we need."

"Sturdy clothes, small-scale survival kit, a few tools to retrieve the diamond. We aren't going to just pop in and pop out. I need to meet with the locals and let them know we're in the area."

"Why bother?"

"A courtesy. They watch for outsiders, and I don't want them to think that we're trespassing."

"Aren't we? I thought we were going to sneak in and steal a diamond. Isn't that the reason for your Indiana Jones reference earlier?"

Pet didn't answer his question directly, but countered with what sounded like a change of subject. "When you review reports on my holdings, what's the one thing you always shake your head about? Come on, 'fess up. I know you do it."

Hal sighed. He'd been too obvious in his disdain for Lena's eco-generosity.

"This Precious Earth," he replied. "The not-for-profit you own. Vast tracts of undeveloped land, locked away for the sake of preservation. Guarded, even. Money spent with no thought of remuneration."

Pet's voice was rich with humor as he said, "There's a reason I put 'precious' in the name, Hal."

Hal sat bolt upright, eyes wide; his heart suddenly hammered at his throat. _Treasure, stored away and waiting, in remote, protected spots around the world!_ No wonder Lena wasn't worried about going bankrupt!

"You're a fucking genius," Hal declared.

"And you're a genius at fucking," Pet said with a grin. "Are you sure you need sleep? Because I can think of a much more interesting way to spend our time."

"Who's offering? You or Lena?"

"You tell me. It's your turn to choose."

Hal checked the clock. They had a few hours until sunrise. He threw the covers aside and lay alongside and partially on top of Pet as he replied.

"Both," he said. "I'll have both."

"I love the way you think," Pet said as he pulled Hal down for a kiss.


	3. The Office

Tom awoke to the smell of breakfast and the sound of instrumental music wafting through the house. He glanced at Alex next to him, propped up on a pillow and reading, then at the clock, then back at Alex. His question was apparent.

"Yeah, they've been up for a while," she said. "I'm not sure they slept at all."

"Dunno about the music, but the food smells alright," Tom said as he sat up and stretched. "We should just get on with it then."

He got reluctantly out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts before going to the bathroom to clean up for the day. This would be a long one—full day at work followed by full moon tonight—but at least he could meet it on a full stomach.

Alex gave him a few minutes to start his shower before joining him. She thought Tom might like to begin his day with a back wash and sex. One of the best parts of becoming tangible, besides her ability to enjoy the full extent of Tom's love for her, was the sensation of water on her skin. Alex found reasons to indulge in it, and steamy wet sex with Tom was her favorite reason. Full moon days were the best for sex because the wolf paced just beneath his skin; he was more powerful, a little dangerous, and eager.

Breakfast was being set on the table by the time Tom and Alex came downstairs. Hal and Lena's picture-perfect teamwork was almost wordless as they laid out an impressive meal for themselves and their werewolf friend. Their movements around the kitchen were a private dance that held them perfectly in sync with hands full and thoughts elsewhere. The Latin rhythm suited their buoyant mood.

"What're we listening to?" Alex asked as she joined Tom at the table.

"Joaqin Rodrigo Vidre's _Concerto de Aranjuez,_" Lena answered as she stepped lightly away from the table in time to the intricate guitar and accompanying flute.

"Nice to wake up to," Alex said approvingly.

"We're setting the mood for our trip," Hal said with a warm smile aimed at Lena, "although Brazil is Portuguese rather than Spanish in its European heritage."

Tom's appetite was almost as impressive as the quantities of food laid out for him, and he tucked into the sausage-and-cheese casserole right away. Lena's signature cinnamon rolls, light, sweet, and still warm, were his next point of attack. Appetite notwithstanding, Tom still managed to notice Hal's calm satisfaction and quiet confidence as he moved through the kitchen. His best mate looked a bit tired but carried himself well. Less swagger than he had at times, as if he no longer needed to take up extra space in the world. More relaxed than at other times, as if he no longer needed to guard himself. Last night had been good for Hal. Tom figured that Lena would make sure Hal was okay after his difficult confession, but by the looks of things Hal was much more than just 'okay.'

Lena was much more than just 'okay' too, from what Tom could tell. Her light steps, swaying hips, and unconscious smiles told Tom that his mate had taken good care of Lena, or Pet, or whoever Hal had ended up in bed with. Tom shook his head as he ate. Trust Hal to be the kind of bloke who could satisfy a shape-changer with nearly unlimited stamina. There probably wasn't another man on earth who could. It was good that Hal had finally met his match; good for Hal, for them, and for the world as a whole.

Alex looked Hal up and down as he joined them at the table.

"What's with the tie?" she asked. "I thought you were going treasure hunting today."

Hal was dressed in smartly-tailored suit trousers, slim-fitting dress shirt, and conservative tie. He protected them with a white chef's apron, which he kept on while eating. Lena wore khaki trousers and a loose-fit button-front blouse over a lace camisole. She also protected her clothes with a chef's apron. They had dressed for the day while breakfast was in the oven.

"We are leaving for London immediately after breakfast," Hal said. "As Lena intends to spend the afternoon in her corporate office, I dressed appropriately."

He cast a dubious look at his girlfriend as he spoke. Clearly he believed he was the only one of the two who actually understood office-appropriate wardrobe choices.

"Hey, I'm not wearing a t-shirt at least," Lena said defensively. "This is as close to work wear as I care to get."

"I know you well enough to know that," Hal said, "and I **am** thankful my eyes aren't to be assailed by some tactless slogan or tasteless graphic today." He gauged her expression as he continued. "You look fine, all things considered. I doubt you have anything more suitable in your wardrobe."

The flash of her eyes told Hal that he'd hit his mark, and he hid his smug smile with a sip of coffee as she proved just how easily he could motivate her to do what he wanted.

"Oh, really? Well, Mr. Executive Vampire Fashion Snob, how about you do the dishes all by your lonesome and I'll rummage through my meager closet for something you might actually approve of?"

Lena accepted his challenge with just enough temper to heighten her color and make her nearly irresistible. Yes, Hal needed to stay in the kitchen while she changed, or their departure would be delayed indefinitely.

Tom and Alex helped clear the table before leaving for work. After the conversation at breakfast, they understood that their housemates would be gone for a few days, possibly longer. Tom decided to stay in the basement for his 'monthly' that night, as the weather was supposed to be crap anyway. Alex was glad to hear it; the weather didn't bother her, but she hated the idea of Tom being out in it all night.

Alex went with Tom into the woods on full moon nights now. The first month, she'd taken his chicken on a string and tied it up in a tree, then watched the wolf run its circle and fall asleep. When Tom woke up in the morning she was there with his clothes and the chicken, which became his lunch.

The third month, things had gone slightly awry when the wolf crossed the track of a fallow deer and followed that scent, forgetting about the chicken. Alex wasn't worried at first, but as werewolf Tom got closer to an area where they'd seen signs of people, she decided to step in. She got their chicken-on-a-string and rent-a-ghosted in front of the wolf, hoping to draw it back to their safe area. The wolf stopped short when it saw her, but only momentarily. It lunged at her, or at the chicken, and Alex barely avoided its claws.

Alex lost her cool at that point in the proceedings and rent-a-ghosted behind the wolf, clonked it on the back of the head with their chicken, and let out a string of profanity that Tom recognized even in wolf form. She took off running and he followed her back to their designated area, clear back to the tree, where she tied up the chicken and sat on a branch. She watched him as he paced the ground below and watched her.

Eventually the wolf shook its head in an all-too-human expression of frustration, curled up at the base of the tree, and went to sleep. In the morning Tom thanked Alex for keeping him away from people and Alex suggested that they try to get the wolf used to her company. Tom agreed.

Now Alex ran with the wolf and sometimes lured it into hide-and-seek by dropping pieces of meat for it to find and eat. Tom refused to let her use that name for their activity when their housemates were around because it sounded like a child's game and the wolf was no child. It was a fearsome predator that just happened to like chasing a ghost around in the woods. Tom called it safe hunting because nothing was killed or injured during the game, and he considered it training for the possibility that Alex would need to lure the wolf away from a human some day.

Tom had worried that the wolf might scare Alex, but she'd proven more than a match for it. He was grateful for her company and felt more secure during his changes than he had since McNair's death. Still, it would be nice to give her a full moon night at home this month, especially with bad weather in the forecast. With their housemates gone, Tom didn't have to consider their reactions to the noise of his transformation or to the wolfy scent that Hal particularly hated.

xxx

Hal said goodbye to his friends as they left for work, turned on the dishwasher, and hung the chef's apron in the pantry next to Lena's. He carefully checked himself for crumbs and wrinkles before going upstairs to wash up and get his suit jacket from his room. He was giving Lena time to dress in whatever she'd found to wear. Hal had investigated her wardrobe more closely than she realized and knew she had more suitable business clothes than she'd chosen for the day.

He'd chosen his suit carefully with the thought of making an appropriate first impression on Lena's executive staff, most of whom he'd worked with but none of whom he'd met. Although he knew them by sight as well as voice after regular video conferences, they would be seeing him for the first time.

Hal had been given no reason to wear most of the clothes Lena had presented him on his birthday because he seldom went beyond the confines of Barry and its limited social circles. He looked forward to their brief stop in London for several reasons, not the least of which was the chance to dress more properly than he usually could. He was vain about his looks and didn't mind the opportunity to make the most of them, so he was eager to see the impression he made. The faces of those he met were his only mirror, but it was a mirror he knew how to read.

The suit was charcoal grey with subtle colorations in the weave of the fabric that gave it depth and character. He paired it with a tie in diagonal stripes of black, grey, and blue. Conservative colors, but the secret was in the thin stripe of vibrant ocean blue surrounded by quiet shades. It reminded Hal of the waters off Sicily on a clear, warm day. He wore a rich blue shirt that matched the tie and his memories perfectly. Hal mentally thanked Lena for knowing that he would have the confidence to carry it off. It struck just the right note.

He was adjusting his cuffs when he heard a wolf whistle from the doorway, and he turned with a grin that froze on his face as he saw her. They were hardly noticeable when hanging in her wardrobe, the simple brown skirt with gold and copper stripes, the burnt orange blouse. But set against her golden skin and draped softly over her curves they made for a heart-stopping combination.

As he caught his breath, Hal returned her whistle with one of his own, a low sound of unmistakable appreciation. She laughed.

"I take it you approve, Mr. Executive Vampire?" Lena said as she did a slow turn for his benefit.

Rich brown leather shoes with small gold buckles; necklace and earrings of intricately linked antique gold with two types of gems; a matching clip holding her hair loosely at the nape of her neck—he approved. She was classically beautiful, tasteful, and she exuded confident authority.

"I knew you could look the part if you chose," he said as he moved in close and gently lifted her necklace to examine it. He recognized the cabochon brown-and-gold striped stones immediately. The larger faceted stone in the center needed some thought.

"Tiger's eye," he said as he studied the stones with an appraiser's eye, "and beautiful selections. Depth, luminance, lovely chatoyance*. Now what have we here?" He turned the large oval stone in his hand and studied the deep orange-gold center and red edges. The stone shifted colors as each facet caught the light. "Topaz? Imperial topaz?"

"Brazilian imperial topaz," Lena said with a smile. "I thought it an appropriate choice."

Hal smiled back at her. "Did you pop over to London for these? I felt a disturbance in the Force."

The Force was their term for the connection they'd felt since Lena had inadvertently shared her soul with Hal. They could sense each other's presence or absence and Lena felt Hal's emotional state at times as well.

"I did," she replied. "I wasn't sure you'd notice."

"I always notice."

He let the topaz slip from his hand and drop back onto her skin just above her cleavage. His fingers followed the path of his gaze down to the gold-trimmed brown lace that peeked from beneath her open neckline. It was only visible from this intimate viewpoint, one that he assumed nobody else would be allowed. He unbuttoned one more button on her blouse to reveal the bra he'd seen tucked into the back of a drawer. It looked much better on her.

Hal traced the curves of her breasts along the top of her bra before firmly buttoning two buttons on her blouse.

"You make resisting temptation quite a challenge, my lady," he murmured as he breathed in her scent. His fingertips lingered on the warmth of her skin as he leaned in until he felt the tickle of her hair against his cheek.

She turned her head just enough to rest her forehead against his cool skin. "We are all daughters of Eve at heart," she said, "although I take exception to that particular Bible story."

"The serpent in the garden? An obvious phallic metaphor," Hal said as he forced himself away from her. "It seems that men will forever blame women for their beauty and excuse themselves for their violation of it."

"Can I blame you for your beauty and violate you in turn? You are much too close to perfect in this suit, Hal." She ran her hands across his shoulders and down his lapels. "Cool. Clean. Like deep water on a cold day."

"And you are warm, sensuous. Perfumed embers waiting to blaze. Christ! I can't help myself!"

His apology came as he pulled her to him. Her curves melded with the tense planes of his body; her fingertips trailed across his ears and along his hairline to the back of his head. One hand returned to caress his cheek as she gently kissed his neck. Hal felt her lips part and her tongue flick lightly across his skin. She was tasting him in a way he didn't dare taste her. Not if they wanted to leave the house today. He breathed her in and exhaled shakily before speaking against her hair.

"If I kiss you now, your lovely clothes will become torn rags on the floor and we won't make it to London today. My weakness."

"I would welcome you, encourage you," she said softly. "My weakness. But we must be stern with ourselves. We have business that must be completed."

They disengaged from each other as Hal nodded his agreement. "So, you are cool and controlled beneath your warmth," he said.

"And you burn under your cool exterior. We make a good couple." Lena spoke as she went to their room to retrieve her travel bag. "I'll bet we look good together. Too bad we can't check the mirror and see for sure."

"I've often thought that," Hal agreed. "I can't see myself in the mirror, but there may be a way for you to see us together."

He grinned at her questioning look and guided her to stand in front of the mirror in their room.

"Watch carefully," he said with a touch of the magician's drama in his voice.

Hal stood next to the mirror as if he were standing next to her, and Lena's eyes lit up. She could see them together!

"Ta da! How do we look?" he said with a flourish.

"Oh!" Her hands moved unconsciously to her heart as her eyes swept over the vision in front of her. _This is what we look like. This is what people see, _she thought_. No wonder they smile! We belong together. _

"We look good together. Fire and ice. Oh Hal, you have to do this for me every day!"

_Such a simple thing makes her so happy. I should have thought of it months ago_. Although he internally kicked himself, Hal smiled indulgently and hid his emotion in a glib retort. "As you wish, my lady. I am, as always, your willing servant."

They moved reluctantly from the mirror as he continued. "In fact, I will happily carry your bag to the car and drive you to London."

"I'm not fooled by that act. You just want to drive the Audi," she teased with a smile. "Maybe we can trade out halfway. I love that car too, you know."

"I'll take first shift. An invisible driver is less likely to be noticed here than on crowded London streets," Hal said as he picked up Lena's bag.

She used an enhanced laptop case in the form of a brown leather messenger bag with room for a few personal items. His more traditionally-styled black traveler's briefcase was downstairs. Hal had become a modern businessman who couldn't consider leaving his laptop behind, although he assumed that they'd both leave all business accoutrements in the London hotel suite tomorrow. Their trip to Brazil and Bolivia had a different focus.

They'd discussed the risks of Hal driving and dismissed or minimized them by simply acknowledging human nature. If a human glanced in the mirror at a trailing car, the human brain registered the car, not the driver. As long as Lena was in the car, the human would see a person in a car and the brain would assume the rest. Her position would probably be overlooked because the brain often sees what it expects rather than what is there. The possibility of a car with left-hand drive would be the next logical thought from the human drivers ahead of them on the road.

Drivers who saw Hal first and then caught a look at them in the mirrors would very likely 'see' both of them because of the mind's willingness to trick the eyes into seeing what should be there. The next thought by a discerning driver would be that Hal was momentarily out of sight and possibly reaching for something on the passenger side of the car. The fact that he couldn't show up in a mirror wouldn't be a consideration for most drivers. Those few who accepted the reality of vampires would note his species but would be unlikely to pursue any contact with him.

Hal believed that the slower speeds, stoplights, video monitors, and congestion of London traffic presented an insurmountable problem so Lena would have to drive there. Modern technology was a blessing in many ways, but it made it increasingly difficult for a vampire to go about his business unnoticed.

The drive into London was uneventful. Lena navigated the late morning traffic easily and parked in her reserved spot in the garage of the building that housed her corporate office.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked as they rode the elevator to the top floor.

"Ready to prove that the invisible man is more than a disembodied voice and an empty chair? Very much so," Hal replied.

"You're more than just the invisible man, you know. I'm sure there's been plenty of speculation around the office. You'll be an object of curiosity for everyone, not just the people you've dealt with directly."

"I realize that," he said quietly. "You've made no attempt to hide the fact that you chose me to be your consort as well as trusted me with your business. I will do my best to prove myself worthy in the eyes of your staff."

"I'm not worried about that. If they can't see your worth, fuck 'em." Lena said exactly what he needed to hear, and Hal's surprise and relief were apparent in his startled smile and slight relaxation. "I just meant to be ready for a crowd," she warned.

The elevator doors opened onto the lobby of her offices and demonstrated her understanding of the situation. There was an inordinate number of people lingering around the reception desk and coffee and tea station. Hal recognized a few familiar faces among the clusters of Lena's employees, some of whom tried to hide their curiosity and some of whom outright stared. He hadn't been made to feel this much like a piece of meat on the butcher's block since his last conversation with Mr. Snow. The old vampire had demonstrated an uncanny knack for sizing up his 'children.'

The humans and supernaturals on Lena's executive staff had all signed strict non-disclosure agreements that prevented them from talking to outsiders. Stories were eagerly shared within the group, however, and their seldom-seen employer unwittingly encouraged the stories with her extended absences and mysterious past.

Hal Yorke was known to some of them before Lena entered his life, and he'd been discussed and researched avidly since he'd been introduced as her housemate. He was a vampire of legend and possibly the greatest monster and threat to humanity still living; Lena Perennis was a Seraphin Nepos of legend and the greatest monster hunter in history. He was the monster she chose to protect rather than destroy and the man who had lured her from her centuries-long hermitage.

Not only had the vampire been privileged to live with her, but he had seen Lena's true power, an honor that nobody on her current staff could claim. He had been allowed to fight with her against a horde of his species that had invaded their home. He'd faced the fire of her anger against his own kind and lived, and he'd earned a place at her side.

It was an open secret that Yorke had been involved in the mysterious disappearance of Andrzej, the much-despised Seraphin Nepos who had cast an unpleasant shadow over so many of Lena's employees. Lena's head of security had personally investigated the report of a struggle in Andrzej's apartment, which was owned by the company. A quick review of the surveillance footage told him all he needed to know—Lena had dealt with her employee, and the vampire had been her partner in the matter.

It was assumed that the vampire had been part of the impetus for her worldwide assault on the vilest of men that had followed Andrej's disappearance. She'd freely admitted that Hal had been her rock during the horrifying hours of her recuperation, the symptoms of which were explained briefly by her CEO. Raymond Doctorian was a Seraphin Nepos of limited power who had attempted healing once and nearly died from the injuries he'd taken upon himself. He learned his limitations on the day he saved his granddaughter's life, and he would never use that part of his ability again.

It was understood that Hal Yorke no longer hunted humanity or drank blood; it was suggested that he was enthralled by Lena and unable to leave her. Rumors of his good looks and prowess with women circulated freely, and those who hadn't worked with him considered the possibility that Lena was simply keeping the vampire as her paramour. No wonder so many eyes were fixed on the elevator doors as they opened to reveal Lena's partner.

Hal was almost disappointing when he first exited the elevator. He was almost too civilized, almost too perfect. But as he moved through the lobby with the easy grace of a seasoned and confident predator, the creature beneath the clothes made itself known. Through introductions and brief snippets of small talk the casually charming killer with the penetrating gaze, mesmerizing voice, and winsome smile claimed his place in the room, just as he had done so many times in the past. Vampire society had been an excellent training ground.

He belonged here, Hal told himself. He belonged with her, not because she chose him, but because she had done well in choosing him. He would make them all believe it, even he did not.

An assistant appeared almost immediately upon their arrival and began an exchange that set the tone.

"May I take your bags to Ms. Perennis' office?" The polite young-looking ghost began speaking to Lena, but she directed him toward Hal with a glance.

"Of course," Hal said as he handed over his briefcase and turned to ease Lena's messenger bag from her shoulder in one fluid move. "Thank you," he finished as he gave her bag to the assistant. He disappeared with their bags and returned in a few moments.

"They are on both on the desk," he said. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Hal looked to Lena, who shook her head. "No, thank you." He dismissed the ghost politely.

It was an insignificant event that solidified Hal's place by Lena's side for all those in attendance. When she introduced Hal to those members of her senior staff who needed to meet him, Lena displayed no hesitation or conversely, partiality. She neither protected nor encouraged him; she knew she didn't need to. She stayed close without clinging and allowed Hal to touch and guide her through the space as he saw fit.

Hal had nearly completed their successful maneuver through the lobby when he saw a welcome and familiar figure striding down the corridor toward them. Bernard!

"Hal, it's good to see you again," Lena's friend of 1500+ years extended his hand for a firm handshake as the two men said hello. Bernard gave Lena an appreciative look. "Taking care of our girl?"

"Doing my best," Hal replied easily. "She's quite the handful."

"I'm right here, you know," Lena retorted. "Bernard, what are you doing here? I thought you'd stop in later this afternoon."

"I heard rumor of a 'working lunch' and feared that Hal would be subjected to one of your egregious ham sandwich affairs," Bernard said glibly. He turned to his fellow connoisseur, "You'll find a chilled luncheon waiting in the conference room. I'm sure it will be more suited to your tastes."

"Thank you," Hal said with a smile and a spark of humour in his eyes. "You don't know how much I appreciate your consideration."

Lena snorted. "Let's just hope the fabulous food doesn't distract him from the business at hand. Since you're here, Bernard, will you stay and eat?"

"No, thank you. I have no interest in the inner workings of your empire," the Seraphin Nepos said. "If I want a nap, I'll take one on my own sofa. Let's meet for tea this evening," he added as he moved away. "I know just the place."

Bernard always knew just the place to go for anything that involved food. It was his current passion, and one he was happy to share with friends. Bernard loved everything about food except its preparation, and although he owned several successful restaurants he never set foot in their kitchens. The mystery of its genesis was part of his enjoyment of a perfect meal.

Lena nodded toward the conference room as they passed the open door.

"Go ahead, we'll join you shortly," she said to the few members of her senior staff who had followed them down the corridor. She and Hal continued to her private office, where she used a retinal scanner to unlock the door.

"Hence the ghost as assistant," Hal said. "I take it nobody else has access to this area?"

"Bernard does, of course. And you as well, if you like," she replied as she flipped open the keypad cover to show a small QWERTY keyboard.

Lena punched in her security code, stepped aside, and signaled for Hal to take her place. He did so, stooping slightly to place his right eye at the proper level for the scan. He was relieved when the beam that passed over his eye caused no discomfort. His more-than-human sensitivity to light was in some situations a hindrance, and he'd unconsciously braced himself for a painful moment.

A quiet tone and quick flash of green light from the scanner signaled success. She punched in another alpha-numeric sequence and received another quiet tone and quick flash as the system accepted Hal's unique identification. He noted that members of her senior staff watched from down the corridor as she demonstrated a level of trust in him that she'd given to none of them.

He opened the door for her, as is appropriate for a gentleman, and followed her into the private space that now belonged to him as well. As he closed the door behind them, the thought came unbidden: Mr. Snow would be proud.

*_Chatoyance__ is the cat's eye effect seen in gemstones such as Tiger's eye quartz and moonstone_.


	4. Controlling the Game

Once inside her private office Lena went directly to her bathroom to freshen up. Hal, left to his own devices, poured himself a drink of truly excellent single-malt Scotch. He was pleasantly surprised by the diversity and quality of the contents of her liquor cabinet. Perhaps they should invest in similar stock at home.

He sipped his Scotch and quietly studied the collection of statues, carvings, and paintings she displayed on open shelves behind her desk. They were from cultures around the globe, some of which he didn't recognize. They were ancient remnants of long-dead civilizations, diverse in style and quality, with only one unifying feature. They were all of her. He knew without being told, without a hint of physical resemblance among them. They were female. They represented power and beauty, sexuality and war, life and death. Of course they were her. Inanna. He whispered the name. How many other names had she held through the millennia?

_She belongs to you._ The voice slid through his mind: lethal, smooth, arrogant. _All of this belongs to you. Well done, boy._

Hal tensed against the unwelcome thought. _No. I belong to her._

"Hey." He startled slightly at her voice—he hadn't heard her approach.

Lena's hands rested on his shoulder blades as she leaned into him lightly. "Why so tense? Are you tired? Regretting our sleepless night?"

"No. Not at all. Never." This was his cue to turn into her embrace, but instead he moved away to stand in front of the window.

She poured herself a short measure of the same Scotch he held. "Something's got you worried," she said. "It's him, isn't it? I saw a hint of him in the way you carried yourself. He isn't just a part of the vampire."

Hal's indrawn breath and rigid form told Lena she was right. She hadn't been surprised that he avoided mention of his alter ego when confessing his past to Tom and Alex, but surely he couldn't expect to keep the secret from her. Lord Henry had been absent since they'd driven back the curse, but he wasn't completely gone. His Lordship was more a part of Hal than he wanted to admit.

"I saw him once, while you were still human," she continued quietly as she came to stand next to him. "I didn't realize it at the time, but thinking back I'm sure it was him. That day you nearly killed the stable hands who called me a whore. You enjoyed it too much. It wasn't like you."

Their eyes wandered across the London view as she waited for him to give her whatever truth he had to offer. He stood apart, guarded and still. She made no effort to reach him.

"Yes." Hal's voice was emotionless, almost weary. "He has been with me since childhood."

He took a sip of his drink. _It isn't blood,_ he thought. _I always wish for blood in times of crisis. Blood gives me strength. Blood keeps me from caring. _He'd told her once that he believed himself to be insane. She'd disagreed at the time, but she might reconsider after hearing that he was, in fact, unhinged.

"I created Lord Henry of Yorke. As a child I listened to stories of the nobility and envied their lives. They could do whatever they chose. Nobody dared hurt them or their children. I made up my own stories, rewrote the horror of my life in my imagination. Cast myself as the hero rather than the victim. It was how I survived."

Another sip of Scotch. Not blood, but pretty damned good. Lena had excellent taste. Or perhaps Bernard stocked her liquor cabinet.

"As I grew older Lord Henry became my inner voice and my strength. I gave him free rein in my head. He said the things I didn't dare say, did those things **I** wasn't strong enough to do. Until one day, I was. I turned against the client who—" His jaw clenched; his lips twisted grimly over the words he wouldn't allow into the air.

"I couldn't accept it any longer," he said. "On that day he pushed past my mind and became _me._ For a time. He has continued to do so when I need him. When there was ugly business at hand, when I was paid to dominate and brutalize my clients, he appeared. Eventually I learned to call him forth at will."

Hal glanced at her, standing calmly alongside him; her even breath and steady heartbeat comforted him. For over five centuries Lord Henry had been his most powerful, most dangerous ally—even Mr. Snow had declined to provoke that incarnation. The Old Master had encouraged Lord Henry, welcomed him, and used him, but had never directly threatened Hal's darkest aspect. Lord Henry had given Mr. Snow his obedience and respect, and he had recognized that his Master could destroy him at will. The question neither vampire had risked answering was how much damage Lord Henry could do while being brought down.

The woman standing with him was the only creature in Hal's long existence to challenge Lord Henry directly and live. She didn't fear that part of him. She didn't fear anything on earth.

"The vampire strengthened him, as you would expect. Gave him a much larger field on which to play. Mr. Snow—" Hal hesitated. He seldom spoke of his relationship with the old vampire who'd become his twisted travesty of a father figure. "Mr. Snow said he saw the devil smiling in Lord Henry's eyes. He said he'd met the devil, so he could always recognize him, no matter what shape he took."

"I wondered, in less enlightened times, if I might have allowed myself to be possessed by an evil spirit. Inadvertently opened myself up to those forces as a child. But no, he is my creation. My Frankenstein's monster."

"So you use him to excuse your worst behavior?" Lena's simple question cut to the marrow.

"Yes," Hal snapped. "To put it bluntly, yes. Of what value is a psychiatric disorder if you can't blame it for your misdeeds?" He drained his Scotch and returned his empty glass to the bar.

"You consider his Lordship a psychiatric disorder?" She kept the humor from her voice. Hal's ability to excuse his own behavior and delude himself about his nature was both impressive and entertaining.

"Self-diagnosed. The current term is dissociative identity disorder. I've yet to meet with a therapist, but I've read enough on multiple personalities to believe it is true."

"But you're self-aware. Classic multiple personality cases involve aspects that are unaware of each other. You also control Lord Henry and give him free rein when you choose. I don't think you can choose to have a psychiatric disorder."

"Perhaps I'm partially integrated. As for controlling him, that varies with the situation."

Lena heard the defensiveness enter his voice again and decided to save the argument for later. Better to understand what he's worried about right now.

"What is it about this situation that calls to him? Do you feel threatened?" She set her empty glass next to his.

"Not physically, but my role in your life and your business is in question. That is enough to lure him into the open. I feel him, pushing against my will. He loves the chance to flaunt his charm and prove his superiority. He wants to claim this place for himself, and he wants to make your people his servants. It would be easy for him, as simple as a look and a veiled threat."

"That sounds like you as much as it does him," Lena said with a quick smile. "Is there any risk of bloodshed from your Lord Henry today?"

"No. Of course not," Hal said an impatient lift of his chin. "Ascendancy doesn't always require violence, even for a vampire. Give me **some** credit."

She shrugged. "Then turn him loose."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's part of you Hal, and if he can be useful, I say use him. What's the harm?"

"You encourage me to indulge my madness? That's terrible advice," Hal declared. "He will want to take me over. He is too dangerous for me to simply 'turn loose'. The aftermath of our battle with Hetty's vampires proved that."

"I disagree. You said he gave you strength when you needed it. I say you gave your strength to him, to hold until you called for it. You say he is your brutality. I say that you hide from your own cruelty by sequestering it in him."

She tapped him gently on the chest. "Your strength is here."

She tapped him again. "Your cruelty is here."

Another tap. "Your courage."

Another tap. "Your rage."

Another. "Your ambition."

Another. "Your future."

She set her palm over his skipping heart. Hal stared as her, wide-eyed and stunned by her clear assessment of his character. Mr. Snow had said nearly the same thing during their first private interview, had called him strong-willed, cruel, enraged, driven to make something of himself. The Old One had offered him the chance to harness those aspects of his nature and use them against the rest of the world. He'd offered Hal a destiny greater than any human could achieve.

What would she offer him?

"**I** am here," she said with a soft pat of her palm on his heart. "Take of mine what you want. Use whatever aspects of yourself you choose. But do not tell yourself the lie that your choices aren't your own."

She walked to the door and turned, extending her hand. "Coming, my lord?"

Hal studied her—her nerve was staggering. She was truly fearless and more powerful than Mr. Snow and all of his vampires combined. Perhaps with her he could find a way to heal the gash he'd torn in his being so long ago. Perhaps with her he could find a new path to greatness. He squared his shoulders and welcomed Lord Henry of Yorke with a tilt of his head.

"Indeed I am, my lady."

. . .

Six seats were already taken. Of the few remaining, two together at one end of the oval conference table had been clearly left for them. Table service waited at their places and the buffet was along the wall behind them. They went directly to the table in tacit understanding that the decision not to begin eating right away set them apart from the rest of the group. Hal smoothly held Lena's chair and made sure she was settled before taking his place beside her. The employee who had been filling his plate at the buffet hurried back to his seat as Lena addressed the man at the far end of the table, her CEO.

"Raymond, you asked for this time. I assume you have something on your mind?"

As Raymond Doctorian swallowed quickly in order to answer the question, Hal nonchalantly reached for his water. His lady's neutral tone of voice was spot on, as was her timing as she signaled her clear control of the meeting.

"Yes. We so seldom have the pleasure of your presence that I thought an in-person meeting would do us all some good. There is nothing else quite as engaging as direct eye contact," Raymond began. He took a drink of water and politely dabbed at his mouth with a linen napkin before continuing.

"There is one particular issue that I believe needs consideration…" he hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. Lena's uncharacteristic manner, combined with the aura of cool authority emanating from her vampire consort, threw him off balance. They presented a front unlike any he'd experienced during their numerous video conferences, and the fact that he could see Hal for the first time was only part of the difference.

"You refer to the drain on our resources caused by my support of the Safe Angel Initiative?" she asked. "Hal has already warned me that we are nearing the edge of solvency because of it."

They noted the combination of surprise and relief on the faces around the table; it would have been a difficult topic to introduce without offending her. Hal continued speaking where Lena had paused.

"And we have developed a strategy to remove the burden of support from our corporation," he said smoothly. "Our stopover in London is the first step in placing the plan into action."

Our. We. Two single unremarkable syllables, used by each of them in turn and in the proper context, and Hal's power was established. Implicit but crystal clear. Done without forethought or plan, and as effortless as a waltz across the kitchen at Honolulu Heights.

A knot at his core relaxed as Hal sensed the recognition of their partnership by Lena's senior staff. His senior staff. She said he could have what he wanted, and Hal decided that he wanted it all. His ambition rested in him, just as Lena had said, and Lord Henry would serve to support that ambition.

"That's—that's good news," Raymond stuttered through his cognition of the subtext he'd sensed since Hal and Lena entered the conference room. "Can you offer a timeline?"

Hal gave Lena an arched eyebrow and a half-smile as he answered. "I think we may have a resolution by month's end. Don't you agree, my lady?"

"Yes, my lord. Quite a reasonable expectation," she said. "We will attend to the details ourselves, of course," she added.

Her statement quelled any potential questions about their strategy, and her easy use of the title 'my lord' elevated Hal's stature with the group. He called her 'my lady' regularly and her staff found it endearing and comforting—the vampire recognizing her superior nature—but she hadn't used the equivalent term for him until now. It sat uneasily in the room, Hal noted. He would need to prove his place more adamantly.

The meeting moved forward as each member of the assembly spoke in turn.

Andrzej's replacement offered her personal thanks for the confidence Lena had placed in her and demonstrated her people skills as well as her mastery of financial management during a brief question-and-answer exchange. She was already more proficient in her position than the traitorous Seraphin Nepos had ever been.

Hal murmured a quick offer to bring Lena some food before going to the buffet behind them to choose from Bernard's generous gifts. He was still picking his choices when a disagreeable topic opened for discussion at the table. The VP for Euro-Asian trade relations suggested temporarily lifting their embargo on trade with countries that the United Nations blacklisted for persistent human rights violations. At one time Hal would have agreed with the idea, but since experiencing for himself the trauma of those victims, he'd modified his attitude. Besides, Lena would never approve, however rational the argument.

Here was his opportunity to confirm his newly-claimed authority. He half-turned from the buffet and glanced at the man.

"Benjamin."

The name was softly-spoken, drawn out with a hint of humorous chastisement that did nothing to hide the menace in his voice. Lena remained expressionless as a chill settled over the room. Goose flesh appeared on the skin of human, Seraphin Nepos, and werewolf alike as the Old One made his disapproval known.

Hal set a canapé precisely on his plate as he continued. "This matter was resolved two weeks ago. Why are you returning to it now?"

Benjamin's flushed face paled dramatically and sweat popped out on his brow as he struggled for a coherent reply. "I—I thought—given the current—current state of things—financially—"

Hal added the thought Benjamin dared not verbalize. "And given that Lena hadn't responded to your proposal personally, you thought it wise to broach the subject again."

He provided a parody of a kind smile as he set his plate on the table.

"Really Benjamin, you shouldn't have. I was trying to spare you the embarrassment," he said with a slight movement in the man's direction, "as well as the potential—" Benjamin shivered in obvious fear as Hal paused "—downturn in your career that presenting such a ludicrous idea would invite."

A hush followed. Hal knew that his slightest movement in Benjamin's direction would send the man scurrying for safety. He waited until the telltale signs—increased heart rate, shallow respiration, widened pupils—told him that the executives had all recognized the threat he posed. When he shifted his weight back and reached a casual hand for his chair, their relief was palpable.

"You've already dealt with this, my lord?" Lena watched Hal take his seat as she spoke.

"Indeed I have, my lady."

She popped a strawberry into her mouth and enjoyed the burst of cool sweetness. She knew Hal had chosen them for her to eat. She shrugged.

"Next topic," she said.

Hal glanced at the utensils waiting for his use. "No knives," he murmured.

A beautifully-wrought knife appeared in her hand. She set it on the table between them, where it glowed softly against the wood. Another sign of his unique place in her world.

"Thank you," he said politely as he used it to slice into his stuffed tomato crown. The blade slipped through his food and into the porcelain plate, leaving a visible gouge that he ignored.

Hal savoured the minced crab, dill, and tomato as their executive team scrambled to find the next topic to discuss. "This truly is delicious," he said to his partner. "Will you try it?"

She smiled. A forkful was already on the way to her mouth. She leaned toward him slightly, took the bite from his fork, and nodded her approval.

"I think I need my own plate," she said as she pushed away from the table.

In one graceful move Hal rose from his seat and drew back her chair. He returned to his seat and fixed his steady gaze on Raymond.

"Perhaps you can catch me up on our South American activities?" Hal smiled a cool smile that stretched the length of the conference table and settled the flustered activity. "Anything that would benefit from a personal touch."

. . .

The final meeting of the afternoon was between Hal and the European representative of his Hetty-hunting team. They had been singularly unsuccessful in finding the elusive vampire, and Hal had a theory as to why.

They met in Lena's office, using the table while she worked at her desk. It would be a short meeting, after which he and Lena would do their necessary shopping and meet Bernard for tea.

Yasmin Griggory was punctual, unprepossessing, and tactfully direct. She went about her business unnoticed by most of the world, which made her a good choice to manage a largely-covert organization. She was also undaunted by supernaturals, which gave her an advantage over most humans who came into contact with vampires.

She looked Hal directly in the eyes as she declared, "The team has been a complete failure thus far. Are you as frustrated as I am?"

"More so, as my life hangs in the balance," he replied.

"I don't understand it. With the information you've given us, not to mention your continued advice and guidance, we should have found her by now."

"I agree. So why haven't we?" There was no threat in Hal's question. He sounded as if he were musing, or speaking to himself. Silence followed as he waited for Yasmin's reply.

"I hate to consider the best answer to that question," she said quietly. She frowned at her own thoughts.

"I believe we must consider it, however," he said.

"A traitor. A spy."

"Yes."

"It could be me," Yasmin said. "You've already thought of that."

"You've been the subject of a thorough background investigation," Hal said, "as have the other members of the team. I'm fairly comfortable in my belief that you are not Hetty's spy. If I weren't, you wouldn't be here."

He slid a thick folder across the table. "Here are the results of our investigation. Yours are included. I've flagged my concerns and believe I've narrowed the field to two possibilities. I'd like your input."

She accepted the folder without opening it. "If I agree with your assessment?"

"Whether you agree or not, we must plan to expose the traitor in our midst. Study your fellows. Consider the best way to lay a trap. We will meet again upon our return to London." Hal glanced at Lena.

"I'd say a week or so," she answered his unspoken question. They both knew that if their detour to Bolivia proved a success there would be no need for another meeting with Yasmin, but the details of their trip were known only to themselves. Even Tom and Alex were unsure of their specific itinerary.

"That should be plenty of time," Yasmin said. "I have one question."

Hal sat back in his chair and nodded for her to continue.

"How will the traitor be dealt with?"

"What do you suggest?" Hal asked mildly.

Her dark brown eyes met his hazel ones. "Leave it to me," she said. Cold anger turned her dark eyes even darker as she spoke. "I don't tolerate betrayal."

"Nor do I," Hal said. He blinked and met her angry look with soulless black stone. She didn't flinch but he heard her pounding heart. An appropriate response. "But I will listen to any resolution you offer," he said. His eyes returned to hazel. The meeting concluded shortly thereafter.

. . .

Shopping was accomplished easily enough, thanks to high-end establishments that allow clients to rest in private spaces while personal attendants fetch items for their approval. Tea with Bernard was delicious, as expected. He sat with them at the owner's table in his best restaurant and cordoned off an area around them so they could enjoy private conversation as well as an exquisite meal.

An extra treat for Hal was his chance to escort a beautiful woman through an exclusive restaurant for the first time in decades. The bloom of envy and desire on the faces they passed was his own little gift to his ego. Some wanted to be him; some wanted him; he enjoyed both reactions.

. . .

Finally they reached their suite at Hotel 41. Although it was still early evening Hal assumed that Lena would want to rest after their sleepless night and busy day, but he was mistaken. She headed straight to the sound system and put on some music. His lady was full of surprises today.

He began to loosen his tie as the slightly scratchy sound of an old recording filled the room. Old blues. He tugged on his tie. _What kind of mood is she in? Nostalgic?_ His thoughts idled through his tired mind.

The single guitar. Then that voice. Nothing exceptional except her power and the brazen joy with which she sang. Bessie Smith, queen of sex put to music. Hal's private smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

_Christ, I'm in for it tonight, _he thought_._

The notion pleased him more than he expected, considering how exhausted he was. Apparently Lord Henry was still in the vicinity and ready to play.

Lena's shoes slid across the floor and thumped against the wall as she sidled up to Hal and took his loosened tie in her hands. She smiled as Bessie's voice spoke for her. _"I'm wild about that thing, it makes me laugh and sing. Give it to me papa, I'm wild about that thing…"*_

She pulled his tie open and out from under his shirt collar with long smooth tugs of her supple hands. Oh, those hands. He unbuttoned the top button on his shirt—suddenly he needed to breathe. She tossed his tie onto a sofa and reached for the buttons on his jacket.

"_Do it easy honey, don't get rough…"_ One button. Her hands rested against him as she undulated to the music, lips parted, eyes half-closed.

"_Give me every bit of it…"_ Two buttons. Her hands slid up his lapels and pushed the jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. He let it fall to the floor. She was already looking at his waistcoat. Hal wished he'd left the damned thing at home.

"_Don't you know I love it and I want it all?"_ Three buttons. He hoped he'd left the bottom button open on the waistcoat. He couldn't remember.

"_You touched my button, I'm wild about that thing…"_ Hal was more than ready to touch her button, but apparently she was going to make him wait until she'd worked her way through all of his first.

Lena finished with his waistcoat and eased her way along his shoulders as she pushed it over his coiled muscles. Her hands curled around his arms, fingers following the lines that flexed and tensed under the fabric of his sleeves as she slid the waistcoat down. It joined his jacket on the floor. She ran a finger down his shirt front, touching each button as she went. Hal tried to count along. One. Two? Thr—Jesus! More. Fucking. Buttons. Why exactly was business-appropriate dress so important?

She caressed a shirt button as Bessie reminded them both of the pleasures to come. He began tapping out a rhythm of fingers against his thumbs in a desperate attempt to control himself.

"_Kiss me like you mean it, I'm wild about that thing…"_ Hal decided to take Bessie's advice. He pulled Lena against him, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on her delectable backside, and kissed her like he meant it, because he did. He meant it wrinkled suit and popped buttons. He meant it torn blouse and awkward landing on the sofa that waited somewhere behind him. Hell, he meant it right there, fall if they had to and fuck as they landed.

She pushed away from him with a laugh. It wasn't going to be that easy. Mr. Executive Vampire Fashion Snob was getting his comeuppance.

He watched her go, hips swaying as she moved into the open space designed for dancing. The tinny guitar was replaced by tinny piano and a filthy-rough trombone. She lured him to her, arms outstretched as her shoulders rolled and those supple hands beckoned. Hal took a breath. Fine, he'd follow the rules and deal with the buttons.

The "Empty Bed Blues"* wailed through the room as he unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it toward his abandoned jacket. She pulled his shirt out from his trousers, undid the last buttons, and sent it flying. The bra earned a moment of admiration, so the brown lace was still in his hands when she dragged his vest up his torso and over his head. The two garments tangled and sailed through the air. Their hips pressed together as they swayed to the rhythm of blatant innuendo; their hands caressed naked skin they'd been aching to touch all day.

"_He's a deep sea diver with a stroke that can't go wrong. He can stay at the bottom and his wind holds out so long…"_

"I swear she's singing about you," Lena murmured as she dragged her cheek along the side of his neck. Hal chuckled as she kissed his throat as if she wanted to devour him. He was certain he and Bessie Smith had never met.

"_Oh, he knows how to thrill me, he thrills me night and day. He's got a new way of loving, almost takes my breath away…"_

"Tell me the truth, did you visit the States in the late '20's?" She was teasing. Hal knew that, but he was flattered by her suggestion nonetheless. Until her kisses along his jaw and under his chin distracted him from everything else, even the perfect breasts cosseted in his hands.

She wrinkled her nose and scratched it on his stubble—one of her more adorable moves, and one that twisted his gut. So innocent, but it drove his hunger for her deep into his core and sent echoes of a thousand sweet young bodies through his lust-addled mind. His Lordship had loved those succulent children in his own depraved fashion. Hal pushed the memories aside and claimed her mouth in a mind-clearing kiss instead.

"_When my bed get empty make me feel awful mean and blue. My springs are getting rusty, sleeping single like I do…"_

"No more rusty springs for me!"

She broke their kiss to whisper gleefully against his full, rich lips, and she felt them stretch into a grin in response. He bit her lower lip gently and held it so he could slide his tongue along it and taste her—taste the danger of her and the hint of his own destruction waiting just a few cells away.

Like a sideshow freak, he played with fire and blood.

Finally, finally she kissed him like she meant it. No more slow caresses; her hands undid his trousers faster than he thought possible while he pushed up her skirt and ripped her panties apart. As lacy pieces fluttered to the floor, the scent of her desire burst into the air, so strong he could taste her with every breath. She pulled his erection toward her—demanding and pleading at once. A hand around her thigh, a push-off as if they were dancing—a lift—he arched his back—the brush of warm moist flesh against his tight abdomen. She settled over him, hands on his shoulders, legs around his waist, but their balance was off. Hal knew they'd fall but he didn't care, he wouldn't let her go—couldn't—leave her hot sweet body.

Her wings unfurled, stirring a gentle current around them.

"Ballast," she said.

They stabilized. He set his feet apart, a firm foundation and a means of keeping his trousers from dropping to his ankles. His hands cupped her backside and held her firmly in place. His back still arched a bit because it kept him buried deeply in her and nothing, not even angel wings, was going to interfere with that.

They rocked together, and the subtle shifting of their bodies against each other kindled a shower of sparks that spread through their bellies. The edges of her wings wafted gently in time to their sway.

She pulled herself to him for a tongue-tangled kiss between songs. "You Gotta Give Me Some,"* she said as they eased into a new rhythm of guitar and piano.

"I believe I just did."

"Song title."

She joined Bessie Smith for snatches of lyric between lingering, hungry kisses; they enjoyed the banter that teased them both as the tension between them built.

"_I want a piece of your good old meat…"_

"Old? Pot, meet kettle."

"_I crave your round steak_…"

"Apparently."

"…_your sweet sweet lollipop…"_

"Flirt."

"_I love all day suckers…"_

Plural? How disconcerting."

"…_want a lots a cream…"_

"Not long, now."

"_Catch it when you come…"_

"Which I appreciate."

"_You gotta give me some."_

"This would go better if we could lie down," Hal said breathlessly, "or even lean against a wall. I need more purchase."

"What's the matter? Never fucked an angel before?" She grinned and tightened her legs around his waist.

"Every day. The wings change the game, however." He tightened his grip on her backside and ground against her.

"Speaking of changing the game..." She lifted them off the floor with a downthrust of outspread wings, like a giant bird of prey with her legs to hold him captive. "Off with the clothes." Her command was tempered by a languorous kiss.

He kicked off his shoes. The trousers and pants slid easily away with a few wriggles of his legs. In an instant her feet caught the back of his thighs and pulled him tighter against her.

"Now mine," was her next command. Her lovely skirt was torn in half and tossed aside.

"Now we're ready to travel," she said with a hint of Bessie's naughty joy.

_Travel?_ Hal thought. _Shit._

_. . ._

*"I'm Wild About That Thing" by Spencer Williams

*"Empty Bed Blues" by J.C. Johnson

*"You Gotta Give Me Some" by Spencer Williams and Clarence Williams


	5. On Tour

Lena's wings wrapped around them as she spoke. Hal barely felt the familiar shift in the air, but a moment later his sock feet landed on warm sand. Her wings unfurled to reveal an empty beach and full moon reflecting on water. He raised his head from the shoulder he'd been kissing and automatically reconnoitered. Northern Hemisphere, European based on moon position. Warm air, warm sand. Mediterranean?

"Ready for that lie down?" She began to pull him forward with her weight and a thrust of her wings.

"A favor first?" His voice was strained. He wanted to fuck her into the sand, but he remembered those wings. During their post-vampire-slaughter sex her wings had torn his hands badly as he clawed at them to get to her blood.

She paused and uprighted them.

"Your wings. They've done some damage in the past."

A quick rustle and grey steel became luxurious white feathers ruffled with lacy down. It was a cushion fit for royalty that spread under her as she settled them onto the sand.

"I assume you want tops," she said, "since you mentioned purcha—ohmygod!"

His long smooth thrust spoke for itself. His next one was even more eloquent. She stifled her whimper but he heard the catch in her throat, and he grinned down at her as he cupped her face in his hands.

"Show time," he whispered, and suddenly Lena wasn't sure who she was having sex with.

His kiss lingered—deepened as he took control of her at last. Her world became him, only him. Pleasure pulled at want, want teased at pleasure. Impossible need that grew from desire fulfilled and still mounting. So good, so good, **so good** and not enough, more and more and more until nothing but hunger fed by him, feasting on him, every nerve screaming with it, hands clutching, muscles tensing, breath gone—

Wrapped in a shuddering down cocoon, caressed by angel wings, Hal wrestled the demon of his ferocious desires and gave himself to her instead. His Lordship prowled the beach, commanding him to rend and twist, to bruise and break, to pull the wings from her shoulders and bury her in the sand. The darkest part of him urged him to destroy his angel, just as he'd destroyed every good thing that had ever entered his life.

_Not true. There's Leo and Pearl. Annie and Eve. Tom and Alex. Her._

His sanity stretched thin and taut, a guitar string wound too tightly on the peg.

"Good… so good… so _f-ucking_ good," she whispered. The peg loosened. She wanted him; she needed him.

"Hal," she gasped. "…oh Hal." The string began to hum in tune with the sound of her pleasure. The correct pitch, no longer strained, as she called him back to her.

Her body gave him a safe melody and he moved into harmony with it, playing along her heaving, twisting climax, letting her flex and clench around him, pull him in, hold him tight. He came deep in her. She didn't notice. He didn't mind. She didn't need to know the battle he'd won.

Hal held Lena close and brought her gently back from oblivion. Her wings slid away and spread out on the sand. The canopy gone, moonlight shone on their sweat-sheened bodies as he slowly moved in her. Slowly. Softly. He stopped. She nodded.

"Thank you," she said.

In the quiet aftermath he stretched out alongside her and turned to admire the moon. In spite of the reaction they'd triggered in him, he couldn't help enjoying the sensation of her wing under him. Her feathers were much more pleasant against his damp skin than sand would be.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Not sure. Mediterranean coast. Italy? One of the islands?"

"We're naked on a beach a thousand miles from home, and you aren't sure where we are?"

"We're not naked. You have on socks and I have my jewelry."

"That hardly counts."

"Want a swim before we leave? I'll bet the water's warm."

"In a moment." He brushed a hand along the wing he was lying on. It was lush, almost sinfully so.

"You were holding back," she said quietly.

She could tell, damn her keen perception. "I didn't want to hurt you," he replied.

"Liar."

"I didn't want that part of me to win."

"That sounds closer to the truth. Was it the wings? Too cliché angel for His Lordship?"

"He wanted me to shred them, to tear them off your body," Hal said quietly. Too tired to hide from her. It wouldn't work anyway. She always knew.

"You can't. Not as in 'I won't let you' but as in 'you literally can't hurt them.' You might knock a few feathers out of line, but you can't really damage them."

She curled her free wing over them both. "Go ahead, see for yourself."

"Too tired. Maybe later."

She recognized his need for quiet and rest, and she respected it. No more questions, no more talk of Lord Henry.

She felt him settle and relax next to her, so she turned on her side and rested against him. Her wings curved gracefully around them both and they fell asleep in their nest on the warm sand.

Hal awoke to moonlight and kisses. A warm sea breeze ruffled the canopy of feathers overhead.

"Not in London, then."

Lena raised her lips from the soft skin on his neck, just below his whisker line. It was one of her favorite spots on his body, and one that she frequented.

"We haven't had our swim yet," she reminded him.

He guessed by the moon's position but checked his watch anyway. Two hours. Not long enough to get the sleep he needed, but ample time to be unconscious and nude on a strange beach. Hal corrected himself as he sat up. Nearly nude. His sand-crusted socks were still on his feet. He pulled them off and stood up, shaking the sand from them as he did.

Hal resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get back to London until she'd had her swim. It was a good idea, come to think of it. They were here. The water **did** look inviting. And he felt less than fresh and smelled a bit gamy.

She rose to her feet when he did. He'd pinned her in place by falling asleep on her outspread wing, and she hadn't wanted to disturb him. Her wings fluffed automatically as she stretched, then settled and disappeared. Moonlight caught her jewels as she removed her earrings.

"Can I borrow a sock?"

He caught on immediately and held it open for her so she could drop her earrings in.

"You don't seem at all uncomfortable to be standing here in the nude," he observed. "Does it not bother you?"

"Nope. Does it bother you?"

"Yes. I feel…exposed."

She dropped her necklace in the sock and added the clasp from her hair.

"I've lived in civilizations with much less focus on clothing," she said. "Brits are obsessed with covering themselves, it seems."

"I am firmly in the British camp," Hal replied.

He took off the platinum Rolex watch she'd given him and dropped it into his other sock. Hardly fit containers for their valuables, but there was nothing else close to hand. He set the socks on a stone as they walked to the water.

She slipped her arm around his waist; he draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.

"Clothes protect us," she said quietly. "They keep the world from seeing us too clearly. You use clothes to project the image you want people to see."

"You don't?"

Water slid around their ankles. Slightly cool, but not alarmingly so.

"You've seen my wardrobe. I wear what I like. If anything, I use clothes to fool people into believing that I'm less than I am." She looked at him, with his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. A marble statue come to life, perfect in form and dimension; every move revealed the power and potency of his body.

"You do that, too," she said.

The water was at her hips. She pulled away from him and dived into the gentle undulations. She resurfaced several yards away, turned to him with a smile, and began swimming parallel to the shore.

He watched her for a moment before joining her. No wasted effort—clean slices through the water. They'd swum and played in the quiet waters of the lake on her estate centuries ago. Here small waves pushed against them and there was just enough tide on the night of the full moon to lift them. They met, brushed along each other and dove in teasing counterpoint, one under the other. Once refreshed, they made their way toward shore.

Hal stopped in waist-deep water. "I'm loathe to expose myself again," he said. "This truly is disconcerting."

"You're gorgeous and I'm the only one looking."

"I hope so."

"Social conventions aside, you hate being naked here, don't you?" she said. "You didn't used to be like this. I think the honesty bothers you."

"Of course it bothers me," he said curtly as he moved away from her and out of the water. "I'm a vampire now, and clothes are part of my camouflage. My entire existence, the existence of my species, depends on lying to humanity. Lying is more natural than breathing to a vampire."

She followed him onto dry sand. "There's nobody to lie to here,"

"That could change at any moment. Doesn't this feel unsafe to you?" He picked up his socks—their treasure trove.

"It feels fun and a little bit dangerous, the threat of getting caught. I kind of like it," she said as she took the socks from him. "You act like you've never done this before. Haven't you ever had sex on a beach?"

He had. Long ago. He and his 'friends' had joined a party of revelers on an evening much like this one. He looked across the stretch of sand and water and breathed in the salt sea smell. With it came the lingering scent of blood in the air, a mist of iron-rich, fat-sweet blood bursting from corpulent ladies who thought he'd been so charming—so delightful. They had been easy prey, quickly contained by their own drunken terror and brought to Lord Henry by his attendants. Well-trained attendants who knew to keep the women alive and bring them to him first. His attendants were content with his leavings, or at least they had the sense not to complain.

He'd fairly leaped onto the mothers, gobbling their blood as he'd violated them, barely taking the time to enjoy their cushioned bodies on the hard sand. The daughters…well, he wasn't quite as hungry by that point. He had the patience to play with his food. The first and last man they'd ever know. A different kind of violation, forcing pleasure from terror, adding humiliation to the nightmare because he wanted to taste their climax in the blood.

The men had to watch him defile, seduce, and torture their women. The ones who protested the most loudly had been brought to him next, thrown into the sand before the blood-drenched monster who decided their fate. Forced onto a pile of corpses, brutalized while choking on their bile, they had quickly learned not to fight the abomination that used blood to slicken his way into their bodies.

He'd taken a dip in the sea to wash off when he'd finished reveling.

Sex on a beach? Oh yes. It had been a hell of a night.

"Apparently you have."

Her voice, quiet and concerned as she answered her own question, brought him back to the present. He was staring into nothing, rigid, black-eyed and fanged. He blinked, closed his mouth, turned from her and walked back into the water. He dove under and stayed under, dug his hands into the sand and forced his way along the bottom until he found a large rock, grabbed it, and held on. If he opened his mouth, if he breathed now, would he drown? He knew better. He could fill his lungs with seawater and survive. He'd tried it.

He couldn't face her; he couldn't explain what had triggered the vampire. Above all else, he couldn't tell her that tonight she and Lord Henry weren't that far apart—they both worked against him to control his movements. They both used him to satisfy their own desires.

He'd just stay here and she would go home without him. No, he saw the lie within the thought. He had to go back to her before she came looking for him. Hal gave in to her resolute love, stronger and more important to him than anything else in his world. He would wear his weakness rather than his clothes, because she required it of him.

He surfaced, returned to shore, and faced her silently. As water ran off his body he waited for her steady heartbeat to calm his own. She reached out and gave him a gentle hug; he responded, grateful that she didn't question him about what she'd seen. Her contact settled him, realigned his being until he was in tune with her again.

"Time to go?" she asked.

"Yes. I'd like to take a shower," he replied. He needed to scrub the memory of blood from his skin.

He continued, trying to find a way back to their former easy banter. "Will your pinpoint landing skills be taking us directly to the shower in our suite, or will we land on the cold tile floor? I'd like to know what to expect, my lady."

He shivered as water dripped from her hair and over his arms. A warm shower would be lovely.

His socks disappeared from her hand as a smile spread across her face. He knew that smile. It almost always meant trouble.

"We're not going back to London," she said. "You know the term 'around the world'? Well, tonight it's literal."

Hal dragged himself into consciousness. Exhausted, aching, gritty in very uncomfortable places—he felt like a 'horse that'd been rode hard and put up wet.' Ye gods, what had she brought him to? The only thing he could think of to describe his condition was one of her horrifying colloquialisms.

He groaned and pulled his head from under the pillow, turned, and managed to focus briefly on the clock. Nearly 3. Sunlight. That would mean 3 in the afternoon. It was tomorrow. Or was it still today? He'd lost track.

He rolled slowly onto his back. Christ, he needed more sleep. Another glance at the bedside cabinet, to verify a detail he'd nearly overlooked. His socks, lumpy with their treasures. She'd teleported them back to the hotel before taking him on tour. Another trick he didn't know about. She was full of surprises.

They'd chased the moon around the world, from continent to continent, hemisphere to hemisphere. Lena had told him once that the earth was her playground, and last night she'd proved it.

The shower he wanted came in the form of a waterfall in Costa Rica, naturally heated through proximity to a volcano. No thundering torrent, just a soft spray from rocks overhead, and a warm pool to relax in as well. She'd let him relax briefly, at any rate, before having her way with him.

Hal corrected his thoughts. That wasn't an accurate turn of phrase. She'd been a considerate lover, beginning with a back and shoulder massage that he'd reciprocated. They'd lounged together in the warm water; he'd leaned back against a sloping shelf of rock and she'd lain between his legs, her head on his chest. They'd watched the moon and stars for a little while—he'd never seen them from that side of the world. He'd let the warm humid air and warmer water soothe him, and he was about to doze off when she'd turned and slid down, moving her attentions below the waist. Her underwater mouth action had curled his toes and resurrected his cock from the dead, and when she mounted him she'd given first thought to his pleasure. She was returning the favor after his courtesy to her on the beach.

Humid Costa Rica had transitioned into dry volcanic heat as she took him to Hawaii next.

"I thought you might like to get dry," she'd teased as they stood on the slope of Kilauea and allowed waves of heat to flow over them.

"I'd like to get dressed," he'd responded stiffly.

She'd taken him to a tropical paradise instead, but the romance of moonlight on lush flowering vegetation was lost on Hal. He couldn't help wondering what kinds of noxious creatures lurked in the shadows.

"There could be mosquitoes as big as dinner plates, and I've not even a fig leaf with which to protect myself," he'd grumbled. "My privates are far too easy to reach."

She'd leered at him and cupped his balls in her hand. "I like having your privates easy to reach."

He'd pushed her away and placed both hands firmly over his privates. "No more sex until you provide me with clothes," he'd declared.

As he'd surveyed the sartorial offerings of the ramshackle surf shop in which she'd deposited them, Hal decided that next time she took him on a naked excursion he'd specify 'suitable' clothes. He'd settled on black and white surfer shorts with an incongruous skull-and-hibiscus pattern, a baggy yellow t-shirt because apparently beach bums didn't want their clothes to fit or coordinate, and—god help him—flip flops.

He'd pulled a floral sundress off a hanger and tossed it at her. She'd put it on with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"What, no undies?" she'd asked sarcastically.

"I doubt they'd last long," he'd replied dryly. "Besides, I like having your privates easy to reach."

"That's the spirit!" She'd laughed and grabbed him for a kiss.

Hal hadn't been ready to give in and play nice just yet, however. His frustration and vulnerability had boiled up into anger he couldn't control. He wasn't a fucking poodle on a leash or a doll for her to dress and undress as she chose! He'd spun her around and bent her over a table of garish beach towels, with his hand tearing through her hair to seize the back of her neck. Old habits, muscle memory, took over and he'd thrust into her quickly, before she could protest.

"Is this what you want?" he'd bitten out the words between nearly-gritted teeth.

"I'll take it," she'd gasped. "Your turn. Payback."

He hadn't thought too carefully about the sudden erection that practically leaped from his shorts of its own accord at the idea of taking her that way. He hadn't asked the meaning of her tension as she caught herself and braced against his entry. He hadn't noticed the not-as-wet-as-usual environment in which he'd found himself. Of course he hadn't.

He'd driven into her, one hand clutching her neck and shoulder and one bruising her hip. She'd steadied herself and accepted him; shifted position until she'd found a way to enjoy it.

She'd climaxed somehow, although he'd done nothing to encourage it. Her release had extended through her body and left her limply sprawled across the towels as he'd finished with her. It had resembled submission and his raging lust had spiked—until he'd come. He'd pulled out with a sob and turned away, sickened by what he'd done. He'd wanted to blame Lord Henry, but the villain was nowhere in sight.

He'd slumped to the floor and waited for her to speak. Could he find his way home from Hawaii?

"Caught me off guard," she'd said as she'd begun to stir. "That's all right. I like a bit of bad." She'd stood up and caught a cascade of towels that tried to slide onto the floor.

"Sweet fuck, that was good though. Damn good!" She'd smiled at him. Smiled, after he'd assaulted her.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. "I can't do this. Let's just go home."

"Can't do what? Have sex? Lose your temper? Get sick of being drug around the world with no say in what happens to you? C'mon, I pulled a power play on you and you let me know you don't appreciate it. We're even. No harm, no foul. This was a whim, possibly a bad one, but let's see it through. Together."

She'd reached out a hand and pulled him up from the floor. "What d'you say?"

He'd stood in front of her but couldn't look her in the face. Instead he watched his finger marks fade from the skin of her neck. He'd leaned in and kissed the places where he'd bruised her. She'd raised a hand and caressed the side of his face. He'd pressed his lips into her palm, a supplicant's kiss.

"Take us someplace secluded," he'd murmured.

New Zealand. Plenty of secluded places in New Zealand, but not necessarily warm places. She'd quickly moved them to Indonesia and the overgrown ruins of a small temple.

"Hindu? Buddhist?" he'd asked.

"Mine," she'd replied.

He'd worshipped her there. Covered her body with kisses and caresses, let her linger in the pleasure he'd offered with his mouth and hands. Avoided the penetration he'd used against her. Tasted her desire and her release, and given his own tired body a chance to rest. She'd rested with him, after he'd declined her offer of fellatio. It had taken him nearly an hour to decide that it might be okay to accept that offer, but only if she would stop before he came. He'd wanted to redeem himself and his degenerate dick by making love to her gently, but thought he needed a boost to get started. She'd been happy to give him the chance.

Next stop—Kerala, India. A coconut oil refinery? She'd brought them to ground just outside.

"This won't do," she'd said. "Hang on."

Another stop, this time in a packaging plant. She'd snagged a bottle of virgin, cold-pressed coconut oil off a shelf with a grin.

"Hair care?" Hal had asked the question, bemused by her sudden venture from isolated spots into an industrial site.

"Sex lube," she'd replied. "I'm serious about going around the world. Now, where would you like to spend a little time with your Pet?"

Hal hadn't liked the idea of bringing Pet outside the house, but he'd realized that arguing with her would be pointless.

"Somewhere private. Beyond private. No chance of being discovered. A cave?"

"I can do that," she'd said.

In a moment they'd been in a cave. A very dark cave. Hal hadn't thought about a light source, but apparently nothing fazed this woman when there was a plan to carry out. She'd pulled off her dress and turned up her internal thermostat until flames began to ripple through her hair. In the warm flickering light she'd created, Hal had watched her tear strips from the hem of her dress, braid them, and lay the braid in an indentation in the rock. She'd put some coconut oil into the indentation and patted it into place.

"We'll need a match," she'd said. "Use a strip of my dress."

He'd obediently torn a strip from her dress, tied a knot in one end, and lowered it into her hair. It flared immediately and he dropped it onto her makeshift wick. In short order they'd made a sweet-scented candle.

"Where are we?" he'd asked as they worked.

"Gabon. Central Africa."

"Yes, I remember. On the Atlantic coast. I was here once, while it was still a French colony. Why did you pick Gabon?"

Pet had answered him. "Lots of undiscovered caves."

They'd forgotten about chasing the moon after that. Gabon had been their last port of call.

Hal vaguely remembered returning to his room in their suite, stumbling onto the bed and passing out. He raised his head to look at himself. He was wearing the now-filthy yellow shirt and grimy surfer shorts. He lifted first one foot, then the other. A lone flip flop came into view. He kicked it distastefully across the room.

He fought his way to a sitting position. The scent of coconut wafted around him, mixed with the smells of ground-in dirt, vegetation, and sex. They'd made good use of the coconut oil in the cave of Gabon. Hal pulled the shirt over his head and threw it into the bin next to his bed. The shorts followed after he'd forced himself to stand. He'd get the wretched flip flop after his shower. He dropped back onto the bed, put his head in his hands, and groaned again.

Lena entered the bedroom with two cups of tea and handed him one as she gave him the once-over.

"Been a while since you've had a hangover, huh?" she asked with a smirk.

"Hangover? We barely stopped for water, let alone alcohol. I may be dehydrated."

"Sex hangover. Too much fun in too little time. I'll leave you alone so you can clean up."

She left and Hal sat on the side of the bed and finished his tea. Sex hangover. He'd never heard of it but he bet he could list the symptoms. Headache, assorted body aches, unsteady on his feet, dry mouth, mildly uncomfortable genitals, and an empty stomach. Irregular heartbeat when he had the nerve to remember what they'd actually done during their extended night; shallow pride at his own endurance; vague notions of doing it again someday. Minus the assault—that went without saying.

A hot shower, a good meal, and a nap, and he'd be right as rain. He hoped.

His hot shower was uninterrupted, and a good meal was waiting when he sauntered from his room, the epitome of cool with no uncomfortable twinges remaining from last night's activities. Nearly no twinges. They were minor and disappearing quickly.

They were a few minutes into the meal before Hal noticed a business card for the surf shop sitting near Lena's place at the table. He looked at it pointedly, then at her with the question on his face.

"I sent it here while you were clothes shopping," she said. "I couldn't think of a better way to make sure we paid for what we took. I've had a suitable amount wired to the store, enough to cover our clothes and any mess we left behind."

Hal set down his fork and closed his eyes, withdrawing into himself as was his habit. He spoke without opening them, his words weaving softly past his frown and the pain on his face.

"I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am…"

"Are you Catholic?" she interrupted. "Because you sure have a thing for self-flagellation."

He opened his eyes and sighed. "I'm trying to apologize for my appalling behaviour."

"Don't. I'm tired of your apologies. Save them for the big things." She continued calmly with her meal.

"Big things! Christ, woman, I forced myself on you! I'm a vicious brute!" He stared at her. How can she just sit there as if he hadn't abused her when clearly he had? He'd seen the marks of his trespass on her skin.

She reached across the table and he extended a hand to hers without thinking. Reflex.

She smiled. "I know what you are, Hal. I like what you are. You excite me. The danger in you, your power, your stamina…" she flicked her eyebrows at him. "Stop being sorry for what you are. Relax and enjoy yourself. Let me enjoy you."

"How can you enjoy…that?"

"Because I deserved it," Lena said with a casual shrug. He shook his head, refusing to accept her answer.

She sat back in her chair and glared at him. "Damn it, Hal! I took you, without your consent, from this room and dropped you naked on a beach in Italy. When you made it clear that you wanted to return here I took you to Costa Rica instead. Then to Hawaii. I ignored your concerns about being clothed, and when you finally convinced me to listen to you I took you to the tackiest surf shop I could find. It was spite, Hal, pure spite on my part. I could just as easily have found a classy menswear store. I wanted to see you in horrible clothes."

"Why?" His question stopped her.

"I don't know," she replied. "I just—I just wanted to play with you, but you didn't want to play along. It made me mad, I guess. You were being a spoilsport."

"It didn't feel like a game to me," Hal said quietly. "It felt like a battle, and you had all the weapons."

"I know," Lena said. "I'm sorry. I didn't even realize what it was like for you until you nailed me on the towel display. Then I figured it out right quick. Took about two seconds to see what I'd done. I misused my power and disrespected you. You felt helpless to stop what I was doing. You got angry. You reacted in the most natural way you know. I was poking at you like a child with a stick pokes at a dog on a chain. I deserved to be bitten. So I took it. And I was able to enjoy it."

"And if you hadn't enjoyed it?"

"That's highly unlikely. I love your dick." She grinned.

"My dick loves you, and is glad that you are able to tolerate the rest of me," he replied. "Although I don't see how you can," he added sadly.

"Lima beans." She nodded as she spoke. "Lima beans. And coconut cream pie for dessert." She gave him a conspirator's broad wink and he couldn't help smiling. Thanks to their world tour they'd found another dish for their private menu, another way to say 'I love you.'


	6. Meltdown

Dinner was over and tomorrow they would fly to Brazil. They needed an early night, even more than they had the previous night, so Lena promised no surprises. Hal should have promised the same. They were snuggled together on the sofa listening to music when he brought up the subject of his perceived assault again. It still bothered him.

"I shouldn't have given him free rein."

Lena was about half asleep, relaxing into Bach's Brandenburg concertos. They were supposed to be resting before their early start tomorrow. She wasn't in the mood for intellectual discussion and guilt, and she damn sure wasn't in the mood for Lord Henry.

"Shut up," she said quietly.

"I should have realized that once released he would have wanted to stay."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me over the sound of your brain ruining our quiet time," she said. "Shut. Up."

"He threatened you. He triggered the vampire."

"Please Hal. Just shut up." She kissed his cheek to mitigate her words. He was quiet for a few moments, but she could tell by the absent way he rubbed his hand up and down her arm that he was still thinking.

"You don't understand what he can do."

"Fine. I'd hoped to save this conversation for later, but since you insist on doing it now, let's just get on with it," Lena said. She sat up, looked him directly in the eyes, and continued; her voice was composed and dispassionate.

"To use modern parlance, you are a prodigious sexual predator. You've ruined thousands of women, not to mention men and children. Because of the amount of time you've been in existence you've had centuries to practice your particular avocation, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that you are the most proficient sexual predator in history. Even factoring in your good cycles, I'd lay odds on you holding the record."

Hal sat frozen, barely breathing, as she offered her quiet assessment. His hands trembled. He hadn't expected this, couldn't hear it, not from her. She knew too much about evil in the world; if she said he was the worst, it must be true.

He dropped his eyes but denied his urge to flee. Instead he locked himself in place and waited for her condemnation. He deserved it. He would let her speak it.

"Violence is deeply ingrained in you. It is reflexive, your first response to stimuli. Yes, the vampire intensifies it but it's in **you**, not just in the curse. You have trained yourself in brutality through centuries of practice, and it is your native language now."

She gave him a moment to accept what she'd said. He swallowed, blinked rapidly. Was he holding back tears? Had she hurt him that much? Surely he knew this about himself.

"Yes," he said softly. "Violence has become my native language. I learned it as a child, even as I was learning to speak. At some points in my life it has been my first language. I have been bilingual, in that sense, throughout my life."

"Here's what you don't get, Hal. It's a language that I speak fluently as well."

He lifted his head and looked her in the face again. There was no censure in her eyes, just as there had been none in her voice. He tried to put the pieces together. He already had a sense that she was reconciled to his violent nature and at times used it for her own enjoyment. What more was she saying?

"You like a bit of bad," he said.

"I do."

"But not like that, not without your consent," he argued.

"Generally speaking, that's true," she agreed, "but here's the thing. You can't actually force yourself on me because I can stop you whenever I want. With me you have something you've never had in a lover—the luxury of brutality without guilt. You'll kill yourself before you damage me."

"I shouldn't treat you like that just because I can."

"I'll let you know when I've had enough."

"No. It isn't fair to you. If you could reciprocate, maybe. But you can't hurt me. You don't dare, the punishment is too great." His eyes widened as the thought occurred to him. "That's why you didn't stop me. You were afraid you'd injure me."

"I didn't stop you because I was enjoying the activity," she said. "Don't you get it? We are both modifying our behavior for the sake of our safety. Of course we are—that's what lovers do. Here's another thing lovers do. They accept each other as they are. I accept you, Hal."

She settled back against him and let the music soak into her. His arms around her, his heartbeat in her ear—these were the things she cherished.

They were quiet as he thought through what she'd said. Something in it felt wrong to him.

"Your analogy is faulty," he said. "You can be fluent in a language, which is a good thing. You can use the language when called upon to do so, which is also a good thing. Using it without cause, inflicting it on others for the sake of their discomfort and your pleasure isn't a good thing."

"Jesus, Hal! Let it go."

"You are fluent in the language of violence but you don't use it without cause. You don't use it against the innocent. You don't use it for fun at the expense of others. Your analogy is faulty."

"No, my analogy is correct. Your recollection of what I said is faulty. I didn't claim to have the same relationship with violence as you. I said that I'm very familiar with it. Comfortable with it. Now please, let it go."

"You have to leave him alone, Lena. Don't encourage him."

"Your Lord Henry wasn't in the surf shop." She knew it was a mistake as soon as she said it. Hal was immediately defensive.

"No, but he was on the beach, and he brings that part of me closer to the surface. He had too much freedom yesterday."

She was way beyond finished with this conversation. "I'm sick of you blaming everything on Lord Henry. Why do you need a scapegoat? Just accept who you are and be done with it!"

"_**I can't!" **_

Hal's vehemence startled her upright. He slammed his hands into the sofa and pushed himself up, turned to face her and stared her down. His fists clenched and unclenched; his jaw twitched as he fought to hold back the hurtful words he wanted to launch at her. Finally he spoke.

"The minute, the very second, I admit that I'm the monster, that I'm the only one responsible for the horror of my existence, I will **kill** myself. It is too much to bear. It can't be me. Don't you understand? **It can't**."

He turned from her, stalked to his room, and closed the door against her.

_I'm a fucking moron._

Lena sat stunned into silence as she watched Hal escape her company. She stared as his closed door, struggling to process what he'd said. She dropped back against the sofa cushions as she realized what she'd done.

_I'm a motherfucking moron._

Her self-assessment was blunt but astute. She slapped a hand over her eyes—unconsciously acknowledging her own blindness. She had scoffed at the notion that Hal could truly have a mental disorder, even as she witnessed it. Now her disbelief had come back to bite her in the ass—hard.

All of her talk about lovers accepting each other for who they were, and here she was. Didn't mean a word of it. Refusing to accept Lord Henry—refusing to even allow for the possibility that he was a valid part of Hal's being. Demanding that Hal become the man she wanted him to be. Worse, the monster she thought he already was.

And he freaked right out, because he needed Lord Henry. He needed to separate himself from the things he'd done and the dark desires he felt. Most of all, he needed to hold himself apart from the vampire's depraved indifference to humanity and from his alter ego's encouragement of that depravity.

Instead of helping him protect himself from the darkness, she'd looked him in the eye and told him it was all him. Called the man she loved a world-class villain, when all she wanted was for him to relax and stop apologizing every time he breathed on her wrong.

She just wanted him to be Henry.

Memories of her Henry overwhelmed her mind and her senses. Not when they'd first met, but later, when he'd come to trust that she loved him. His ready smile and rich laugh. The way he pulled her onto his lap so they could share a bowl and cup at the table. His confidence as he caught her in a hug or grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto their bed. The way he smelled after a few days without a bath—musky, salty, earthy man-smell that she wanted to lick from his skin and savor. The lilt in his voice and the light in his eyes when he talked about them, together.

She slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs. "Oh god! I want him back!"

She didn't want this apologetic, guilt-ridden creature with bloody hands and murderous heart. She wanted the boy with sunshine in his eyes and the future in his smile. She doubled over with pain as her loss tore through her gut. There wasn't a do-over in the world big enough to fix her grief.

As she rocked and sobbed, Lena's brain finally emptied of thought. She went elsewhere, into a blackness that sheltered her from the trauma of her memories and regrets. She lost her mind for a little while, and it was a welcome loss. She could rest in the vacuum through which she fell.

And yet, she clung to a single word, a necessary word, a word that would keep her from leaving her mind for good. A word that could bring her back to the world when she was ready.

_Hal_

It flitted, a will-o-the-wisp, through the void.

_Hal_

It soothed the fraying edges of her consciousness.

_Hal_

With knife-edged clarity it brought emotions not her own into the emptiness.

_Hal_

A young man destroyed by his lover's betrayal. Plodding with hunched shoulders and bowed head. Shamed, defeated, abandoned.

_Oh god._ _Hal._ _What have I done to Hal?_

For the first time Lena saw the end of their long-ago love from his point of view. She had been devastated by his abandonment. He had been shattered by hers. His loss had been greater. It had killed the boy with the future in his smile.

This wasn't memory; it was emotional truth, straight from him to her, a cry for help from the piece of her soul that lived inside him. If Hal was feeling like that again, now, what did that say about her? How badly had she hurt him?

Lena sat up with a gasp. Bach still played from the sound system. She ran to the sink and washed the tears from her hands and face. She didn't look in the mirror—no need to confirm that she was a wreck.

She went to his door, leaned against it and listened. Sit-ups. She could tell by the time between numbers and the subtle sound of movement in his voice as he counted.

"…76….77….78.."

She knocked quietly.

"..79….80.."

She knocked again.

"..81….82.."

"Hal?"

"..83.."

"Hal, may I come in?"

"..84….85.."

She swallowed the sob that choked her. "Hal? Please?"

"..86….87….88.."

She slid to the floor and huddled with her back pressed against his door. Grief made her thoughtless as she listened to sound of him denying her.

"..93….94...95.."

_I don't want the boy._

"..96.."

_He's only human._

"..97.."

_I want forever._

"..98.."

_I want Hal._

"..99.."

_I want Hal._

"..100.."

_I need Hal._

"..101.."

_I'm a fool._

"..102.."

_Fool._

"..103.."

_Fool._

The door flew open and she fell backwards, barely catching herself on her elbows before her head hit the floor. She looked up at his scowl.

"Please cease your infernal knocking," he snapped as he walked away.

He returned to his spot on the far side of the bed and resumed his sit-ups. She tilted her head back and watched him go, upside down. He was shirtless, pink from exertion, and sweaty. Well, damn. What was she supposed to be doing?

"..104.."

His head appeared at the foot of the bed as he lowered himself.

"I wasn't knocking," she said.

"..105.."

"I must have been beating my head against the door."

"..106..Why?..107.."

She spoke to the head as it appeared again. "Trying to knock some sense into myself."

The head disappeared. She heard the 'hmph' before the next count.

"..108..Did it work?..109.."

She sighed. "Probably not. I'm an idiot."

"..110.."

She turned onto her stomach and watched him, right-side-up. Bach laced around his count as he continued, sometimes in time with him and sometimes in opposition. Eventually she worked up the courage to ask him again.

"May I come in?"

"...150."

He got to his feet and stretched, turned, and leaned forward, dropping lightly onto his hands. Pressups. His strength and grace thrilled her every time.

"Fine." He glanced across the floor at her before beginning.

"1…2…3…"

She watched his head move smoothly up and down, watched the muscles of his arms and shoulders flex as she crawled across the floor and around the bed. He ignored her. She stretched out on her back, parallel to him, with her head near his but far enough away not to interfere.

"…15…16…"

"Hi."

"17…"

"I'm your mental health counselor."

He snorted.

"18…19.."

"I'm sorry," she said.

He glanced at her.

"..20.."

"Really, really sorry."

"21…22…"

"You're not a monster."

"..23…"

"You would never—"

"..24…"

"—do those things—"

"..25…"

"—on your own."

"..26…"

"It's the vampire."

"..27…"

"Not you."

"..28…"

"I won't question—"

"..29.."

"—Lord Henry's place—"

"..30.."

"—again."

He stopped at the top of a pressup and looked down at her. For a long moment they were still.

"Promise." She nodded to emphasize that she was serious. He nodded to accept her promise.

He continued. She closed her eyes and spoke from her heart, softly, keeping time with him.

"I miss my Henry. He didn't carry the burden that weighs you down. He laughed freely. He held me without fear of what he might do to me. He played with me. He fought with me. Without remorse. Without worry about what the next minute might bring."

She heard his quiet count continue, felt the movement of his body alongside hers. She believed he was listening to her as well.

"I grieve for you, and for me. I mourn the loss of us. What we were. I'm glad you are what you are, Hal. It means we have forever. But oh! How I wish our forever didn't come at such a steep cost." A sob slipped out. She dared not speak any more.

He stilled, mid-lift. Faltered.

"As do I."

He lowered himself to the floor, count forgotten.

"I would do it all again, to reach you," he said quietly, speaking to the floor in front of him. Not ready for their eyes to reconnect them. "I would wade through rivers of blood, slaughter thousands of innocents, to have you with me. Me, not the vampire. I suppose I am a monster."

She watched his profile as she replied. "No more monster than I am," she said. "Now that I've found you again—if you were taken from me—I hate to think of what I'd do. Level mountains. Empty seas. Kingdoms would fall."

He sighed, sat up, and leaned against the side of his bed.

"The guilt I carry for what I've done is hard enough to bear," he said, "but the cost of our forever, for me, is that you know my history, know what I am and what I'm capable of. And you think less of me for it."

She started to protest, but he held up a hand with a sad smile.

"It is to be expected," he said. "It still stings. Even so."

He frowned thoughtfully as he continued. "If the devil came to me today and offered me a human lifetime with you as the young man I was, or this life, and the chance at forever with you as the creature that I am, I would choose this. I will always choose this. Not because I will have longer to spend with you, but because I can truly know you. No disguise. The privilege of knowing your true self is worth any cost."

"You value me too highly," she said.

"That isn't possible."

She wiped the tears from her face as she sat up. "Stupid leaky eyes," she muttered.

He smiled and opened his arms to her. She was with him in a moment, his arms around her as he pulled her into his lap. He kissed her stupid leaky eyes.

"Do you really miss him that much?" he murmured as he nuzzled alongside her ear.

"I miss his happiness. His carefree attitude. I wish I could give it back to you."

"The partner of such a formidable being as yourself should have a certain gravitas, don't you think?" He was teasing her; she could hear it in his voice.

"Have you met me? Gravitas is hardly my style."

"Carefree is no longer my style. I'm an old man, you know." His gently mocking tone lightened her heart.

"Perhaps it is time for you to enter your second childhood," she said. "They make very fashionable adult diapers nowadays."

He swatted her backside. "Mind your manners."

"Yes, grandpa," she teased.

He swatted her backside again. She jumped in feigned outrage, then snuggled in more thoroughly. He held her and placed gentle kisses on her temple.

"Remember the day we stole bublik* from the kitchen?" he said. "Six of them, strung on a loop of twine. Cook's special recipe, with fruit cooked inside."

"Mmm, she made the best bublik," Lena agreed. "Especially with butter."

"No butter this time," Hal said. "She caught us leaving and chased after us. We had to leg it."

"We did."

"We climbed our favourite tree and you hung them over a high branch. I couldn't go as high, I weighed too much. You said I had to wrestle you for them."

"Did I?"

"You know you did." He smiled and hugged her tight against him. "Christ, you put up a fight. Tore my shirt, bloodied my nose. Cracked my kneecap. I limped for a week."

"You limped for a day."

"It felt like a week. It took everything I had to pin you. You let me, didn't you? You minx."

"I liked it when you pinned me, but I wasn't going to make it easy on you."

"I ripped your sleeve. Bruised both your wrists."

"And my ribs."

"And your ribs. I'd forgotten. Split your lip with an errant elbow. You spit blood and laughed."

"You said my teeth bruised your poor elbow. Blamed me for it."

"You promised to bring down the bublik and share if I let you go. You climbed up to get them all right, then jumped down and tried to run off with them all. I had to chase you."

"When you caught me you took a switch to me."

"I was playing. It wasn't meant to hurt."

"It didn't hurt."

"We could never play like that now that I know your secret." He whispered in her ear, "I only win if you let me." He pulled back. "Knowing the truth ruins the game. Besides, we must be careful of your blood."

"Not as careful as we used to be. It doesn't bother you as much now, to have a bit of my blood in the air. I noticed when I scraped my shin."

"True, I no longer go mad from just the scent or sight of a small injury. I suppose the Force protects me, somehow. And there is the matter of my frequent exposure to another of your bodily fluids. Perhaps I'm building up an immunity." He leered at her. She rolled her eyes.

Lena believed that when they drove the vampire curse to ground they had also weakened the effect her blood had on Hal. She just didn't think that was the only thing protecting him. _My heart in your chest,_ she thought, _and with it, a bit of my blood, working as a vaccine._ She hadn't told him all the details from that day in the kitchen, when she'd given him her heart and died in his place. She didn't understand what it all meant or how it had worked, she was just thankful that it had.

Hal continued, unaware of her thoughts. "I still crave your blood above all others. It smelled—heavenly. That's why I left the area, just to be safe."

"You must never give in to it, Hal. You must never taste it. It is too great a risk." She was suddenly serious.

"I agree. Too great a risk in many ways. So, we must stay away from games that include much blood-letting."

"We can make new games. How about treasure hunt? We can try it tomorrow," she said with a sly smile.

"I like that idea very much," he replied.

He caught the side her head in his hand, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. She closed her eyes and smiled at his tender touch. He kissed her, brushing her lips with his before sucking her upper lip gently.

"If you tell me again how very sorry you are for offending me, I may allow you into my bed tonight," he whispered in her ear.

He kissed across her cheek, drawing the salt of her drying tears into his mouth. A new tear slid along his upper lip. She opened her eyes and he fell into dark wells of sorrow and shame.

"Never mind," he murmured. "I know."

"Don't let me off so easily," she said. "I'm ashamed of myself. For the way I behaved and the cruel things I said. You deserve better."

"I deserve your contempt. I know what I am."

"That kind of comment is exactly what got me started in the first place. Why do you say these things about yourself? It hurts me to hear them." She took his hand in hers and kissed it. "This is why I miss Henry."

"I felt the same about myself when I was human," Hal said quietly. "I've never believed that I was worthy of your affection."

She sat stiffly upright in protest. "You didn't say!"

"Your memory is faulty. You wouldn't let me say. You had the bothersome habit of interrupting me when I broached the subject." He pulled her back to him and tucked her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder, where he liked it best. Her warm breath and the occasional tickle of her hair against his skin held a gentle intimacy that he cherished.

"I did say," he chastised her softly. "In the beginning, before I learned that you didn't want to hear it."

"I thought I'd changed your mind."

"No, my lady, you merely shut me up."

"Remind me how I did that? My current technique isn't working."

She began kissing along his collarbone, lured by his bare skin. She dipped into the hollow between muscle and bone and found traces of perspiration left from his workout.

She sucked his skin to catch the taste. "Mmm, man-sweat."

"Is it?" He couldn't help checking. They heard his worry in the tiny hesitation before he spoke, the overly-casual tone of voice.

"Oh, yeah," she replied happily. "Five hundred years gone and still fresh as a daisy, so to speak. I love your man-sweat."

She kissed the base of his throat, open-mouthed, searching for more sweat to savor. She told him the truth and meant every word. But she didn't tell Hal the entire truth—that he carried death with him now.

Somewhere between taste and smell the marker lingered, beyond his distinctive human maleness, tickling the back of her throat. The same marker that signaled to him the presence of another vampire-the species identifier that they recognized in each other-lurked in his sweat, semen, saliva, and blood. It reminded her that a wild and dangerous thing lived in him. Sometimes when they kissed her canines ached with the call to join his wildness.

"I need to shower again," Hal said. He tried to gently move her off his lap, but she put her arms around him and refused to go.

"I really do need to shower," he said.

Lena protested by holding on tighter.

He sighed. "It seems I have acquired a burr," he teased.

"Leech," she replied.

She stuck her nose in his armpit and inhaled, then burrowed in so she could kiss his underarm.

"Tickles," he reminded her as he obliged her by lifting his arm. He rested it along the edge of his bed with an indulgent smile. She had some very entertaining peccadilloes.

"Dirty girl," he said fondly.

"Dirty boy," she replied happily.

She kissed his soft underarm skin and rooted through his armpit hair, but found a disappointing lack of sweat.

"Damn modern antiperspirant," she sighed as she raised her face to his. "No man-sweat. No man-smell for me either."

He brushed a flake of antiperspirant off her nose. "You should be thankful," he said.

She grinned slyly. "I'll bet I know where I can find a few sweaty bits."

Her hand touched his stomach as she sought the button and zip of his trousers. He caught his breath; she felt him jerk and she stopped moving. Had she done something wrong?

Small frown lines appeared between her brows as she searched his face for signs of protest.

"May I?" she asked softly.

He nodded. His heart was already beating faster at the thought of what she might have in mind.

She undid his trousers and moved off his lap so she could ease his clothes down and off. She began at his navel and kissed her way down his body, tickling her nose in his hair as she breathed him in. Pushing aside his growing erection to follow the trail down, she moved into his pubic curls. Her mouth sought his taste and texture as she drew in his man-smell, sweat and sex with a hint of soap and a prickle of danger. She carefully spread his leg to expose the moist crease of hip and abdomen and ran her tongue along it.

"Dirty girl," he murmured. There was worship in his tone.

"Dirty boy," she replied. "Tasty, dirty boy."

She spread his other leg and cleaned the sweat from his skin, leaving traces of her saliva. She flicked her tongue along the tender ridge under his scrotum and he flinched.

Fireworks in his gut! He was getting shaky. His bollocks jumped as she mouthed them each in turn. She pressed a kiss against the base of his cock and wound her way around it. Wet. Warm. More fireworks, and he gripped his bedding to keep his hands off her—to keep from forcing her superb mouth onto his cock.

"Mmm, man-flesh," she whispered. She licked up the length of his erection.

"You sound like an ogre," he said, his voice almost even.

"Most of them are vegetarians," she said. "I'll introduce you to one someday."

She hovered over him as she spoke. Her breath teased him. He lifted himself and brushed the tip of his cock against her lips.

"Suck me, dirty girl." More request than command. He managed not to beg.

Her mouth slid over his cock, lips tight around him, tongue caressing…she sucked. He gasped.

"More." Still not begging.

She continued. He couldn't think. He could barely speak.

"Suck me dry, dirty girl."

She grinned and nodded—followed instructions. Such a good, dirty girl.

She swallowed. Cleaned him off; sucked out every drop. Sat up and looked at him, pleased with herself and waiting for his approval. He languidly picked a stray hair from her cheek. One of his.

"Very good, dirty girl. Very good."

"Does this mean you'll let me in your bed, dirty boy?"

"Take off your clothes. If I like what I see, I'll let you come to bed with me."

"Dirty rhymester," she said with a smile. Hal had easily taken control of their playtime, but Lena didn't mind. She enjoyed it when he was in power, and she owed him a turn.

They had played this game before. She would present him with a sample of her previous lives and he would enjoy her presentation. Sometimes it was a chance for him to learn more about her history. He explored cultures by exploring the distinctively-decorated women she offered and by listening to their stories. Sometimes he would choose a sex partner from among them.

Tonight it was just a bit of fun. He might touch or taste a few of them, and he might choose one to sleep with, literally. He was too tired and too satisfied from their recent activities to want anything more. Their game was a pleasant distraction after a long day, a way to reconnect before moving into the unknowns of Brazil and Bolivia, of diamonds and revenge.

*bublik is a member of the bagel family, usually larger than a bagel and with a bigger center hole.


	7. Blue-Sky Thinking

Lena spoke the language of violence fluently and could communicate with Hal in his native tongue. Lena's native language was her sexuality. Sex was a language Hal spoke very clearly, but Lena didn't just speak the language—sometimes she _was_ the language. Just as Hal, when the vampire consumed him and the darkest elements of his own nature rose in brutal triumph, could epitomize horror; so Lena, when the fire burned in her and made her forgetful of mortality, could epitomize lust.

She had seen him at his worst, but had shielded him from hers, until now. Their trip around the world had given Hal a glimpse of the ancient goddess that men worshiped and feared; his pride had been damaged, his weakness revealed.

What's more, she had encouraged him to embrace the monstrous part of his nature. No man who wants to _be_ a man makes that choice.

A voice whispered deep in Lena's core that she didn't want a man as her consort, she wanted a god. In spite of everything she knew to be right and true about Hal Yorke, a tiny part of her wanted the monster instead. She and that creature, together, would make the world tremble. She and that creature would bring humanity to its knees.

And so, for the sake of the soul they now shared, Lena silenced that voice and humbled herself. She became simply a dirty girl playing with a dirty boy—playing a game they both enjoyed.

She got up and took off her clothes. Hal's eyes consumed her every move; his nostrils flared as her scent sharpened in the open air. He motioned for her to turn around. She did so, slowly.

He lounged against the side of his bed, arms outstretched along it, lazy smile on his face as he studied her. A pasha choosing from his harem.

"Do you like what you see?" she asked.

His nod was noncommittal. She turned again, transforming into a delicate Oriental woman as she did.

"Do you like what you see?"

Another nod. Another motion to turn around.

A Kanuri* woman this time, with dark skin, rich curves and full breasts. One of his favorites. Hal beckoned her toward him, reached between her legs, and probed. He withdrew wet fingers and sucked them.

"Nice. Very nice," he said, as if he was choosing a wine to go with his meal.

"Dirty boy," she said lovingly.

"Let's see another, dirty girl."

Native American, Cheyenne, lithe and strong, with square jaw and almond eyes. Fierce and free.

"Too proud for this game," he murmured. "Another one."

She turned again. Slender, pale, with light brown hair and blue-sky eyes. He'd never seen this one.

Something in her slight form and budding curves appealed to him, although she looked too young for their game. He couldn't imagine when Lena would have assumed this character. Typically her women were fully-formed adults, experienced and confident, able to command the world through which she moved. This girl must have an interesting story.

Hal beckoned her to him and held her slender hips as he positioned her with a foot on either side of his thighs. He brushed his fingers through the soft curls that barely covered her private area, then cupped his hand over her and moved forward between her thighs. She gasped slightly when he slipped his finger into her. He quickly understood why. She was unused. His breath caught, eyes widened.

His voice was ominous. "What are you doing, dirty girl?"

"Offering you a new game, dirty boy. Would you like to play?"

He sucked her taste from his finger. A new flavor for his connoisseur's palate—bright, with the earthy coolness of a Northern spring. He very much wanted to play.

"You offer me a virgin? You know what I do to virgins." He hands caressed along her slender body even as he warned her against him.

"This virgin is eager to accept your advances."

"And the virgin's blood?"

"A marginal amount. I can leave quickly if I need to."

He wouldn't risk it. She was too young for him, and too small to accept his advances comfortably, no matter what Lena said. Hal trusted his own experience more than he trusted her words.

But she was deliciously tempting and right there, waiting. He'd just have a taste and send her on her way. He cupped her tender backside and drew her to him until her knees were braced against the bed, her hands on his shoulders. He buried his face in her soft curls; they tickled his nose as he parted them expertly to find her sweet, untouched inner flesh. The heady fragrance and taste of her made him slightly giddy. A lovely gift from his dirty girl.

He might have her after all, the slender virgin with blue-sky eyes. She was willing, and if he prepared her well enough she would be fine. This was Lena, no matter what shape she took, and she wouldn't bring him a woman who couldn't accommodate him.

Hal decided that he was no longer interested in just a taste; he wanted to ignite her passion and coax himself into readiness as well. He mouthed her clitoris and rolled his tongue over the small nub, feeling it stiffen under his touch. He dipped inside her and caught the taste of her arousal until the edges of her hymen blocked his tongue from going further. It didn't leave nearly enough room for what he intended, but surely when he was ready Lena would adjust to fit. For now his fingers would suffice to arouse her further.

As her pleasure grew she arched into his lips and rocked with his careful strokes inside her. She moaned and clutched his shoulders tightly; she became unsteady on her feet. Finally he braced his hands on her hips and pushed her back.

"No, dirty boy!" she protested.

"Kneel, dirty girl."

She knelt over him, aching and empty. He saw the hunger in her eyes, read it in the soft sway of her hips as she moved unconsciously in rhythm with her memory of his touch. They were signals that she was ready for him, beckoning the erection that waited just out of reach beneath her.

He wasn't quite ready for her, however. His cock was hard again, but Hal knew himself well enough to know that it was reflex born of centuries of blood-driven violence. With the vampire in control he would tear through a dozen women before he came, fuck and drink and drain them dry. His stamina was part of his legend. The trick was that he didn't need to be aroused by his victims; the blood turned him on, and sometimes he would run out of bodies before he bothered to come. His hard-on was a weapon, trained to be ready when called.

There was no vampire tonight, no bloodlust forcing him into action, just a tender, eager girl and a tired but willing cock that needed a minute or two.

"Kiss me, dirty girl," he said.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to the sides of his face as she pressed her lips to his, a virgin's earnest kiss. Lena was playing her part well. Hal moved his lips against hers, encouraging her to soften and open them. His tongue slid delicately along her lips and she opened them further, meeting him with the tip of her own tongue, hesitantly. He tutored her in a lover's kiss and she followed his lead willingly. After a little while she pulled away, breathless and giggly.

"I like the way I taste in your mouth," she said shyly, with a gentle blush coloring her pale skin.

"I do too," he replied with an affectionate smile. "You're doing very well, dirty girl."

"Thank you, dirty boy. Can I kiss you some more?"

His smile stretched into a lopsided grin—it was all the 'yes' she needed. She attached herself to his mouth again, and again he led her into sensual caresses. He slid a hand between her legs and began to stroke her in teasing accompaniment to their deepening passion. With his other hand on her hip, he gently lowered her body until his erection met her warm, slick flesh. She moaned into his mouth as he teased her engorged clit; he kept his hands on her hips to hold her steady as he enticed and prepared her for his entry.

"You make this seem very real." He offered her a compliment, but she frowned in response.

"It is real."

He stilled them both and waited, questioning the truth of her statement. She whined in disappointment but he held her hips from moving, so she tried to explain.

"I've lived decades, entire adult lifetimes, in disguise. I learned long ago to set aside my own experiences in order to enjoy those lifetimes as they were given to me. And there are physical differences too. Just as each form looks and acts differently, feels, smells, even tastes different to you, so the world is different to me when I inhabit each form. Everything you're doing is new to this girl."

"How is that possible?"

"Because she is a virgin, untouched by anyone until you, just now. I feel everything for the first time in her body." She nudged his erection and he pressed against her. He was almost ready to deflower his virgin.

She continued as she moved gently against him. "I've been many women in my long life, but I've just given up my virginity once. That was long ago, and I recall little beyond the pain. Hal, I've never been this girl before. I made her for you. I want you to be her first time, to give us a new memory to share."

He was deeply moved, and stunned by her request. What had she said earlier? _The luxury of brutality without guilt._ He didn't want to be brutal with her, but he wasn't sure he could keep himself from it. How does one take a maidenhead without force?

"You will—adjust to fit," he said.

She shook her head. "No. It would be meaningless to do so. You will take this body as it is."

"This girl is too young and too small for what you suggest."

"I know what I'm doing. She's plenty ready for sex, Hal. She'll be fine."

"You do this, knowing how I treat the innocent?"

"I do this, knowing how you treat me."

Lena didn't tell him the rest of the reason for her offer—she refused to put it into words, even to herself, because it was completely against her nature. This girl was a sacrifice, her atonement for hurting him so badly. She expected Hal to injure her in return, and she was prepared to accept it. She gave him power over her, and permission, and a scenario in which he could do so without guilt.

He was silent for a moment as he tried to understand her request. Finally he surrendered to the lure of the body she'd offered him.

"Very well," he said quietly, "I will do as you ask. But what should I call this girl?"

He addressed the slim young woman who waited on his lap. "You should have a name of your own."

"Name me then."

He looked into her trusting blue eyes. "Sky, for your eyes," he said.

She smiled. "I like that."

Now that Hal understood the true nature of Sky's existence, he was determined to make love to her, not just to take her as Lena had suggested. He wanted Sky to experience more than just the pain of his entry. He would give her good memories as well.

He resumed his tutelage by bringing her breasts to his mouth, each in turn, and teasing each pale pink nipple into a tight point. He kissed around the soft, soft skin of her subtle curves, the first kisses on her fresh young body. A body made just for him—his mind reeled. His hands on her waist kept her steady as he leaned into her, arching her back and up so he could kiss down her torso, lingering and gentle. He found her navel and flicked it with his tongue.

"Tickles," she giggled breathlessly.

He chuckled against her skin, moved up her body, visited each small-but-perfect breast in turn, and brought his kisses to her smooth shoulders and slender neck.

Finally, he lowered her onto his lap again. She returned to his erection and ground herself against it, more desperate for it now that he'd ignited her body with his touch. When he reached her lips with his, her kisses were aggressive, demanding. She was ready.

He was ready as well, but he hesitated. Lena had told him more than once that she liked a bit of bad, but this—giving him this sweet young girl to use—this was too much. What was she thinking? Hal, with his nightmare history of violent assault against the youngest and most innocent of victims—with his history of assault against her! She had to know what to expect, and still she'd made this body just for him, made this girl fresh, untouched by another's hands. Or lips. Or—his gut caved in with anticipation. He couldn't wait any longer.

As she rested her hands on his shoulders and balanced on her knees, he gently positioned her on his erect and aching cock. She watched his face as he smiled and murmured his directions. He was encouraging, comforting, and he hoped she saw warmth in his eyes rather than the intensity of his desire for her. Hal was practiced at hiding his baser needs and it would go easier for Sky if she could relax.

"Shift a bit, there's a good girl. So warm, so ready, yes? But...ah...good...we want it just so. Just right for your first time, sweet girl."

He lowered her until he met the resistance of her hymen and stopped. The tip of his dick was covered in her juices and practically shouting at him, pulsing with the need to drive deep into her and give the rest of him the same pleasure. His muscles were tensed in anticipation of the exquisite heave upward. Christ, his hands were shaking, desperate to shove her down and hold her still so he could fuck her. He could hear her heart racing; her eyes were wide, wary. She expected him to force her open. Her first time.

_No._

Hal saw his gift in its entirety at last. This girl was a guilt offering created by Lena's shame for having treated him badly in the past…had it only been a day and a half? So much had happened between them since she'd urged him to release Lord Henry into their world again, since she'd first told him that His Lordship was just his way of accepting his own lack of a conscience. She'd used him, disrespected him, and offended him beyond reason since then.

Lena was sorry, and Sky was supposed to pay her debt, a willing participant in what she knew would be a painful experience. It was deeply wrong of Lena to offer a virgin sacrifice to the man she'd called the most prodigious sexual predator in history. He didn't want them to share the memory of what he'd do to her.

But Sky could be more, so much more. She could be his redemption, his chance to replace a thousand ruined bodies with one treasured girl. A new memory for him—the memory of his care for her, his blue-sky girl.

Hal stretched his arms along the edge of the bed.

"You are in control now," he said.

"You're not going to…?"

"No. I won't risk hurting you."

"Oh. I saw this going differently," she said. "Isn't it supposed to be a masterful thrust and a whimper?"

He smiled. "My thrust may be a bit too masterful, and I'd rather not cause you to whimper. Except with pleasure, of course."

"Oh." There so much in her tone: awe, thankfulness, recognition of his choice on her behalf. Her frame softened as her tension left.

"Okay, well, hmm. Here goes."

She pressed herself down carefully and felt her hymen stretch around his erection.

"Oh my. You really are…big. I didn't realize." Sky gave him a slightly worried look. Hal managed to appear calm and unaffected. Not at all like a soulless predator who wanted to throw her onto her back and tear her wide open. Fuck! Even a predator with a soul would be sorely tempted.

"You're doing fine. Take your time." He didn't mean a word of it, but her grateful smile made him glad he'd made the offer anyway.

She moved up slightly, moved down a bit further. Breathed. Tried to relax.

"I didn't think this through very well," she admitted. "I may be a bit young for this after all."

"Another whim?"

She nodded. "I wanted a girl who'd never been touched. I guess in my head the touching starts pretty early. You don't mind, do you?"

"There's no good answer to that question, Sky."

"Well," she said demurely, "let's put it this way. I don't mind if you don't."

Sky breathed and closed her eyes. Up stroke, down stroke. Up stroke, down stroke. Slight advances. She felt the tension in Hal's shoulders and opened her eyes. He clutched the bedding. His jaw clenched and unclenched with her movements.

"I should just change back to myself," she said.

"No." He shook his head fiercely. "No. This is important to me."

"Okay." Her blue-sky eyes softened. "Thank you."

Up stroke, down stroke. Up stroke, down stroke. Slight advances. It took every bit of his willpower to keep still, to keep from thrusting up into her and finishing it, once and for all. Violence, his native language, screamed at him to just _**take her**_. Another voice, sly and smooth, whispered that it would be fine, she'd forgive him and he could make her forget the pain soon enough.

"Can you—can you move with me?" she asked. "A little? Push up a little, apply some pressure?"

Hal swallowed and nodded. "Of course," he said lightly. Because pushing up into her tight hot wet body, _**just a little**_, was exactly what he wanted. My god, this was penance. It had to be.

They moved in a careful choreography of desire and concern. No pain. He'd prove it, even if it killed him. The first vampire to die of a heart attack, or blood loss caused by an exploding cock.

"Wait," she said.

He froze. FUCK! Now what?

"Right," she said. She was talking to herself. Making up her mind.

She dropped. Settled. Pressed herself as far down as she could. He pushed up, just a little. It was all he needed to do.

They breathed mutual sighs of relief, then smiled at their unconscious unification of thought.

"Well, that took long enough," Sky said. She put her arms around his neck. "You feel wonderful, like you're supposed to be there. So big. I feel my insides shifting into place around you." She carefully lifted and resettled. "Wonderful! I don't want to stop."

"Then don't."

His hands around her waist lifted her and urged her to move again. She followed his lead, making another careful stroke.

"It doesn't hurt at all." She smiled, moved, experimenting.

"But you expected it to."

"Based on my own experience, yes. I expected it to hurt like hell. Oh, I like that, let's do that again!"

Another move. Hal was having trouble focusing, but he needed to say something.

"Sky, you shouldn't expect your lover to hurt you. Even if you—if you feel badly about something you've done."

"Oh! You knew! And still you—Whoops, hang on! Nearly lost you."

Hal pulled her down, a reflex, even as she spoke. He flicked his eyebrows at her and gave her the lopsided grin.

"Don't worry, sweet. I won't be leaving you any time soon."

"Thanks. This first time thing is really awkward. I—well, this body has never done it, so I'm not sure of my movements. It all feels new to me," Sky said. "I never cared about past experience before. How could I, as long as I've lived? But it matters now. That's why I wanted to do this, not just to say I'm sorry. I just—I want you to be the only one. Ever. For everything."

Hal smiled. Tears shone in his eyes. This woman. God, this woman!

"I like that idea," he said.

He slid his hands up her sides until her breasts rested in the curves between his thumb and forefinger. He swirled his thumbs around her nipples as they kissed long and deep. He felt her fingers brush against his nipples as well. The first time she touched him there. Hal shivered at the thrill of her hesitant caress.

"Now what do we do?" Her voice was husky, eager.

Hal laughed out loud. Laughed at the strangeness of them, at the silliness of the queen of seduction sitting on his lap, pinned to his dick and awaiting instructions. Laughed with joy at their success, at the proof of his own gentleness, his own goodness.

"Oh! Your laugh! Hal, you're moving in me, you're—oh!" Her hands flew to her abdomen as her face lit up.

He laughed again. What do they do now? Here's what they do.

"Fuck me, Sky, do it right, and I may let you into my bed tonight."

"Yes sir, dirty rhymester!" She smiled coyly. "Of course, this is my first time so you'll have to tell me what to do…"

They finally made it into Hal's bed, after Sky's first time and a nice warm shower.

Her first time was interesting.

She followed his lead and did an excellent job, but was so focused on getting it right for him that she didn't get it right for herself. The novelty of her new body and the flood of sensations sidetracked her; honestly, just getting the coordination down with her new limbs took some work.

Hal was patient and kept her steady as she moved. He was also responsive, and his growing excitement and tension thrilled her so much that she forgot everything else. When she felt the added slickness of extra fluid as he came, it occurred to Sky that she had missed out. The teasing hunger had gotten worse, and now the sex was over. First time meant bad timing, apparently. She didn't say anything, but Hal knew.

"You haven't come yet," he said as his grip on her hips relaxed and his focus returned. "I have to admit I'm surprised. You're usually very good about that sort of thing."

"New body. Not really sure what it will take for this one to come."

"We should find out," he said with a mischievous look. "If you intend to stay long enough, that is."

"I'll stay if you want me to."

"I want you to."

"Good! Oh, you're leaving me." She froze to keep his softening erection in her.

Hal shook his head fondly at her concentration. "Let it go, Sky. Get up. Stretch."

She moved off his lap reluctantly and stood up. Her legs were due for a stretch anyway. Hal got to his feet, surprised to see that she barely came to his shoulder. Sky must be only 5 feet tall, if that. He hadn't realized just how small she was.

In a rush of affection Hal didn't quite understand, he picked her up and carried her into the spacious shower in his bathroom. She was caught off-guard and squealed, but didn't mind the attention and snuggled against him happily. He set her down after giving her a nearly-chaste kiss, then turned on the water and adjusted it to suit them.

Hal leaned against the shower wall and watched Sky stretch and smile as the water cascaded over her supple young body.

"First shower," she said. "Everything feels new to me, not just the sex."

"Sky, how old are you?"

"16?"

He arched an eyebrow. Something in her tone made him dubious.

"What's the legal age of consent in England?"

"Sky. How old are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm guessing 13 or 14."

"Christ! You've got me skirting the edge of paedophilia." Hal was deeply shaken when she confirmed his fears. Too young. Jesus, he'd known it and ignored it.

"You know better. Despite modern customs, we both know that I'm plenty old enough for sex. In some cultures 13 is completely normal," she said. "People get married at 13. Younger, even."

"In some cultures child rape is acceptable," he retaliated. "And there's a difference between two young people enjoying each other's company and a child with a—" He paused, stuck for an appropriate word.

"Geezer?" She grinned. "What's the big deal? You wanted me, or you wouldn't have chosen me. Why fuss about it now?"

It was true. He'd reached for her before he knew Lena's plan, and he'd led her through every step of their love-making. The dear girl hadn't held him down and leaped onto his dick.

"I wasn't expecting you to offer me a child," he said defensively. "With my history, it's best if I avoid interacting with children."

She turned under the shower. "I'm not a child, Hal. I would never offer you a child. I'm young, yes, but fully ready to enjoy sex. I was wet for you before you even touched me."

He moved into the warm spray and stood behind her, rested his hands on her upper arms, and kissed the top of her head. He shouldn't want her.

"If you knew how many children I've defiled—"

"You didn't defile me," she interrupted quietly. "You had every opportunity, but you didn't. You were good, and kind, and gentle. You were better than I believed you could be. You surprised me, Hal."

She leaned back against him and he put his arms around her. They caught her across her shoulders; her chin fit into the crook of his elbow. He wasn't sure if he was hugging her or hiding her from the world, somehow. No matter. She called him good, kind, gentle, and he had been. He'd surprised himself as well as her. Maybe it was all right for him to have this girl, as long as he took proper care of her.

"There's a bench in this shower," Hal said. "Will you sit?"

She sat down as he adjusted the spray to hit the center floor rather than the end where the bench had been built into the tiled enclosure. He knelt in front of her, meeting her questioning gaze with his own concerned one.

"Are you …sore, Sky? Have you any discomfort from our activities?" he asked.

"No, I'm just horny," she replied with dawning comprehension.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is there any chance that you have bled? At all? I haven't noticed any, but frankly I've been distracted."

"I don't see any reason for there to be blood, but I'd feel better if you checked for yourself," she said calmly. She spread her legs, exposing herself to him.

Hal caught himself leaning in, keen to taste her again. He stopped and breathed in carefully. The scent that had excited him, combined with his own smell, sharp in his nostrils. No blood. He reached out and she slid forward, meeting him eagerly. He probed carefully, checking for damage and watching her face for a telltale wince. He saw only her enjoyment. Hal withdrew his finger and studied it. Not a hint of blood.

He found himself deeply relieved, not just because it was safe for him to proceed, but because he had proof that he hadn't injured her in any way.

"I'm going to pleasure you now, Sky. You must tell me if anything I do doesn't suit you."

His earnest look told her that he meant what he said, so she nodded, big-eyed and serious. He gently pulled her forward until she reached the edge of the bench with her legs against his sides. Hal had pleasured inexperienced young women in this way many times, but his own pleasure had been his ultimate goal, and the vampire had been waiting, just beneath the surface of his seeming generosity. Not this time. Not Sky's first time.

Hal was very, very good at giving pleasure and Sky came quickly and enthusiastically. He heard no complaints among the noises that she made. He decided to see if Sky had Lena's ability to linger in her orgasm, and to their great joy she did. He pleased her until her body hummed and she slumped on the bench, a spent wet noodle.

He left her to relax while he washed, and when he saw that she wasn't ready to move yet he washed her as well. Her limbs were easy enough to do, but somehow she ended up cradled in his arms as he washed her torso and face. He found himself enjoying it so much that he declined her offer to take care of herself and even held her as he turned off the shower and stepped out. She enjoyed his attentions so much that when he tried to set her down so they could dry themselves she clung to him in protest. He sat on the toilet lid with her on his lap and dried them both as best he could, then wrapped her in a robe and carried her to the bedroom, where he set her in an armchair while he got his bed ready.

When he turned back to her, Hal was slightly unnerved by her small form curled in his chair, swathed in a too-large robe. She looked like an eager child with her big blue eyes fixed on him.

"Have I earned a place in your bed?" she asked.

His heart leaped at her willing tone, and instead of suggesting that she sleep elsewhere or return to Lena's familiar form, he continued their game. It didn't feel like a game anymore.

"Most definitely," he said lightly. "Will I have to carry you there as well?"

Sky laughed as she threw off his robe, ran and jumped into bed.

_Christ_, Hal thought, _could she get any more childlike? If I weren't going to hell already, what I want to do to this girl would guarantee it. _

He hung his robe back in the bathroom and joined Sky in his bed. She was happily naked and he couldn't think of a good reason not to be, other than the twinge of guilt he felt at his desire for her. Hal stretched out on his back on his side of the bed and she snuggled into him, head on his shoulder, leg thrown over him. Her soft pubic hair tickled his hip.

At least she had pubic hair. And her breasts, while small, were perfectly formed and responded to his touch in a way that suggested sexual maturity. She _had _been wet when he first touched her, and she certainly lubricated herself effectively in preparation for sex. She'd been able to experience arousal and climax. Hal realized he was ticking off the boxes in his head, trying to prove to himself that he wasn't a paedophile at heart. Trying to assure himself that the vampire, not his own interest, had driven him toward children so many times.

"You're not a pedophile," she said quietly.

"How can you be sure?" His arm was around her even as he spoke. His hand skimmed down her side and rested on the gentle curve of her hip.

"Because you know that I'm not actually 13. You know who I am. And because you haven't once shown a sexual interest in any child we've encountered in our outings. And finally, because I'm sexually mature, which means I'm not a child, whatever chronological age this body may be. This girl wants you with all the hunger of a woman, Hal. I am a woman, a very satisfied woman thanks to you. Don't let it mess with your head, okay?"

"That is a challenge," he said.

"If you were human it wouldn't be."

"If I were human I'd be risking prison right now."

"I made this girl to give us something special together, not to cause you trouble. Dammit, I can't do anything right!"

She sat up in a huff and turned away from him, but not before he caught the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. Hal sat up quickly, murmuring apologies for upsetting her as he pulled her back against him and held her. He was strangely protective of her.

"Hush now, don't be upset. You _are_ something special; you're a treasure, a sweet, tender treasure. My treasure, my blue-sky girl."

Hal rocked them quietly and thought of their unique situation. In the end, the label shouldn't matter. He would be whatever he needed to be to make sure his Sky felt loved.

*_Kanuri _is an African ethnic group of peoples


End file.
